The Demons within Us
by VenusJay
Summary: The relationship of Ivo and Tim is as turbulent as the raging sea that almost ended it all.
1. Chapter 1

We were curled up on the sofa together, Ivo and I. He balanced a book on the arm of the chair with a finger held to the spine to prevent it closing on itself. His other hand lazily smoothed over my jean clad legs that rested in his lap. Occasionally he would hum a noise of approval when something particularly interesting has presented itself. I could read the title: 'Unlocking nature's mysteries'. I would never understand how that interested him.

I loved novels that threw you onto ships on raging seas in a midnight storm, or dragged you across a parched, arid Sahara. I wanted romance and mystery. Ivo just wanted some mud and a magnifying glass.

I snuggled back into the soft upholstery, holding onto my yoghurt pot as I readjusted myself on the sofa, the coins in my jeans pocket digging into my thigh. My fidgeting was met by an exasperated sigh from the man opposite me and it made a small part of me, deep down inside, feel very childishly proud.

Despite Ivo being absorbed in his book the television was still showing a documentary of some kind about whales. He forbade me to watch 'the useless rubbish that my generation thought appropriate to take up valuable memory space somewhere in the data-sphere'. I was stuck with the whales.

"Ivo, rub my feet," I whined, nudging him in the ribs with my toes. He gave no reaction other than a haughty stare in my general direction and to turn a page in his book.

"Ivo," I said in a sing-song voice and he looked up at me under his lashes. I grinned at him and I could see him smirk a little. I celebrated my small victory when he moved his hand from my leg to my foot but it was short lived. My squirming from the tickles meant he soon gave up trying to relax me and instead just attacked me quite viciously. I screamed and batted him away from me but he was surprisingly strong. His laugh was a dark kind of chuckle and I had to lie down on the ground in submission before he stopped, his hands clasped tight around my wrists and holding me down.

We both lay on the ground panting for a moment before he got up and headed straight for the kitchen. I followed him, still breathless.

"So what do you want to do tomorrow," I asked, opening the fridge in the hope of finding anything appetising. Ivo continued in his tea making, glancing round at me for a moment.

"Jesus, Tim. Where do you put it all? You're like a human bin."

I patted my stomach and smiled at him deviously.

"I guess it's all the working out."

He looked at me quizzically.

"They say sex burns calories," I teased. His entire facial expression changed in an instant and I relished the slow burn that I felt as his eyes ghosted over my figure, becoming glazed over with the primal lust that would normally only be seen in the creatures he studied. But Ivo was so primal, so feral. I loved it.


	2. Chapter 2

"For god sake Tim, how many times have I told you not to close the bathroom door after a shower," Ivo called after me.

"Why though?"

"Because it gets all steamy and everything gets sticky," he told me abruptly.

"Ooooh," I laughed. "It gets steamy and sticky? Sounds like my kind of shower."

He turned away from me but I could tell he was smiling to himself.

"You're a bloody nuisance sometimes," he joked.

"Yeah, okay," I replied heading into the living room. Everything was more muffled as I used the towel to dry my hair and my heart almost stopped when I looked up and Ivo was in front of me. It amused me to see him in pyjama bottoms and an old t-shirt. He looked so domesticated and it gave me a strange urge to rip it all off him.

"Turn around," he ordered, taking the towel from my hands. My mouth fell open slightly as I took in his lust blown eyes and did as he had instructed. Already I could feel tension building. He slowly ruffled the towel through my hair and I leant back into his touch.

"Ivo," I half whispered, letting my eyes flutter closed. I gave a soft gasp as I felt his hand rest on my chest and he pulled me closer to him. He smelt of intoxicating cologne that made me melt onto the floor.

"You want me to fuck you," he whispered into my ear, causing the hairs on the back of my neck and my forearms to stand on end.

"Yes," I moaned softly, anticipating a sudden ferocity to his movements but instead he seemed to slow down, his fingers lightly tracing over my stomach and down one thigh. After five minutes of his touch I was almost hyperventilating.

"Ivo, please," I almost begged.

"Please what," he questioned, the tip of his tongue resting at my earlobe, holding back my reward.

I could barely think straight to form a response and he asked again quietly.

"What do you want Tim?"

"You," I replied.

"You want me to take you right here on the floor," he chuckled darkly, swiping his tongue across the side of my neck.

"Yes."


	3. Chapter 3

Tim looked absolutely delicious in the shirt I had bought for him. I was surprised he had worn it for me instead of leaving it in the bag as an act of rebellion. I think even he couldn't resist the sultry, illustrious purple against his ivory skin and taught physique. He didn't notice me watching him from the door frame. His eyes roamed over his own figure and I knew his look was one of admiration.

It had taken a lot of convincing but Tim finally seemed to be accepting the fact that he is beautiful. The first time I had cupped his face in my hand and whispered it to him, he drew away from me. He closed himself off into his shell and only responded in mono-syllables for the remainder of the evening. I was afraid to push him further but I had to know what I had done.

"Tim," I asked him softly. "Why are you shying away from me? What have I said?"

He gave me no response for a while before muttering, "You said I'm beautiful."

I shouldn't have laughed and I regret that I did.

"What's wrong with that," I asked haughtily, resenting his cold demeanor.

"I don't know," he said quietly, picking at his jumper sleeve. "It just sort of reminded me of school a bit. It doesn't matter."

I felt like I had been slapped in the face with my own tactlessness. He had mentioned his schooldays to me once before and had stayed silent on the matter since. It became clear to me weeks after that the reason he wouldn't open up to me was because of my reaction. I had become angry that some stupid teenage boys had hurt him and I wasn't listening to him like he needed me to.

Instead I wrongfully demanded to know why he had let them, why he hadn't told anyone. As if a small, frightened child with no other choice could have fended off the monsters that crept into his bed. Watching him admire his reflection I promised myself I would talk to him later and that I would be what he needed me to be.

I couldn't stand the thought of him hurting and I wanted to know how to help him. He was everything to me. Tim was this beautiful presence in my life that made me happy even when he was moody or whining or demanding. Before Tim there had been nothing. I had been so lonely and so closed off from everyone, through my own doing of course. I had no interest in the human form, preferring to glance at it in a book and move on but with him, it was different. Good different.

I want to know what he is thinking, all the time. He is so mysterious and unpredictable and I relish the challenge of his fragility. He thinks I only love his body but it's even the sound of the breath he takes when he is startled awake by a nightmare. I both hate and love that sound.

And God, the sex. Tim created some sort of animal in me that had been lying dormant for years, verging on extinction. He can play his coy games with me and make me chase him in his own way. It is never the sensation of our love-making that brings me to climax, it is simply Tim whispering the two drawn out syllables of my name. I wanted to record it and play it forever in my head. I feel a thrill run through me when I feel the sheets move slightly under me because I know he is clenching them in his fists in an ecstasy that I gave him.

He moves so gracefully about the bedroom and I move slightly to gain a better view of him. He begins humming to himself, something classical. His steps reflect those of a dancer, something I tell him he should be but he just laughs it off. He tames his hair in the mirror and I salivate at the memory of how it became messy in the first place. Waking up with Tim in the morning is like a reward for something I wasn't aware I had done. The most part of the day was spent with Tim driving me up the walls but at night I couldn't get enough of him. No night was ever long enough for me to be satisfied.


	4. Chapter 4

"Tim," Ivo said softly from the doorway. "Can I talk to you?"

I looked up at him with a forkful of rice halfway to my mouth. I had already gotten most of it on the sofa and I could see him watching the wavering fork anxiously.

"Sure," I replied casually. "What is it?"

It alarmed me that he moved to sit beside me. I put the fork down and tried to discern his facial expression. His hand stroked along my leg in a soothing manner and he wasn't looking directly at me.

"I wanted to talk to you about Leythe," he said slowly. His hand stopped on my leg. "Is that okay with you?"

Ivo wanted to talk about my school? The last time I had brought it up he practically shouted at me and made it clear that I shouldn't mention it again.

"Em, yeah. I guess."

"Okay," he confirmed, looking lost. Evidently he hadn't planned on getting this far. "So, em," he started. "I didn't mean what I said last time," he said in a rush. "I don't think it was your fault, I mean, you were only a kid."

He picked at the arm of the sofa.

"I just want you to know that I'm here for you," he said rather awkwardly. "You know, if you want to talk about what they," he swallowed visibly, "they did to you."

We sat in silence for a few minutes before I moved to put my plate on the floor. His eyes followed me warily. He probably thought I was about to storm off and lock myself in the bathroom but instead I pushed his arms open and snuggled into his chest. Initially I felt him tense up, trying to understand the situation but he relaxed into it. We stayed like that for a while. The movement of his chest and his soft breathing was soothing and he ran his fingers through my hair. It was such a nice moment that I didn't want to ruin it by discussing Leythe but Ivo had reached out to me and I didn't want to disappoint him.


	5. Chapter 5

"Ivo," I called, knocking uselessly on the bathroom door. "Ivo, open the door," I half cried. He was trying to be quiet but I could hear him sobbing behind it. I heard movement inside and the door clicked open. His eyes were a little red but otherwise his expression was controlled.

"Are you okay," I asked hesitantly.

He put his hands either side of my hips and stood in front of me, brushing his nose against the tip of mine in a tenderness I wasn't used to.

"I'm glad you told me," he whispered. "I didn't mean to freak out," he said in a soft apology.

"That's okay," I tried to reassure him but I was wary. My heart had been racing as I listened to him throwing up in the bathroom and I regretted even mentioning Leythe to him at all. To me it seemed like an overreaction and I told him this now.

His hands moved from my hips to my face and he looked at me with the most painful expression, his eyes watery.

"Even if they only gave you a paper-cut I would be mad," he said forcefully. "They fucking raped you, Tim," he cried, immediately regretting having said it. His hands dropped from me when he saw my face.

"Oh God, Tim, I didn't mean to," he stopped and watched me as I grabbed my coat and looked for my keys.

"What are you doing," he asked quietly.

I gave no response.

"Tim," he tried again, I could hear the alarm in his voice now.

"I'm going for a walk," I replied coldly.

"It's half one in the morning," he said incredulously, trying to grab my arm but I pulled away.

"So?"

"So it's dangerous." He moved to stand in front of the door.

"Oh why, because of all the rapists," I sneered childishly at him and he watched me wide-eyed. "Funny how you don't think me living with one is dangerous."

I slammed the door on my way out, trying not to think about the look on his face.

It seemed odd to me upon reflection that it took me two milliseconds to break a man. I thought it would have taken longer than that.


	6. Chapter 6

"How much further," I whined, tripping over tree roots and branches that littered the ground.

"Not far," he replied softly, holding my small hand tighter in his. It was cold and getting dark and my shoes were getting muddy.

We walked a little further until we reached a small clearing.

"Here," he said suddenly and I almost walked into him. He turned to face me.

"Why are we here," I asked him. I wanted to be back at school to watch the film in the hall. It was our Friday treat.

"Shh," he whispered, leaning down to be more level with me.

"You know I love you Tim, you're so beautiful," he said wistfully, running his fingers across my cheek. "So beautiful," he whispered reverently. I nodded briefly.

"Let's go back and see the film, yeah," I asked and he just smiled a little at me.

"In a bit, okay? There's something I want you to do for me first," he told me slowly, hesitantly.

"You mean everything to me, Tim," he whispered, pulling his scarf tighter around my neck when he saw me shivering. He put his hands on my shoulders and guided me to kneel.

"James," I said warily but he quietened me again. He cupped my cheek.

"Just trust me okay?"

I nodded. He unzipped his flies.

"Tim." I jumped. Ivo was calling me. I glanced around but there was no-one.

James watched me, pulling my face around to look at him.

"What is it, did you hear someone," he asked sounding panicky.

"He heard me," Ivo growled, standing nearby under a tree. He seemed so casual in his leather jacket, a cigarette between his fingers.

"Tim," he held a hand out towards me, "Come here." I went to him and he held me beside him tightly.

"Who the hell are you," James sneered, walking towards us, practically the same height as Ivo.

Ivo turned to me. "Run back to the school Tim, okay?" He looked calm and I nodded as he released my hand. I turned to leave and heard James yelp but I started running. The trees didn't seem to have an end and I lost sight of the path.

"Tim," I heard James call out to me, the sound of running footsteps getting closer to me. My heart was racing and I kept going before tripping over a tree root and hitting the ground. Looking up I saw James standing over me, blood running from his nose.

"You little shit," he hissed, grabbing me. I struggled and tried to pull away but he held me by my ankle and began dragging me back towards the clearing. I screamed and screamed hoping someone would hear me.

"Ivo, Ivo!"

"Tim," I heard him cry. James was shaking me in anger. "Tim, wake up."

I sat up with a start, panicking when I felt a strong grip on me.

"No," I cried pulling away and falling from the bed. Ivo clambered after me.

"Tim, it's okay, it was just a dream," he said soothingly, pulling me back towards him. "It was just a dream, yeah?"

I was soaked in sweat and shivering. He sat on the ground beside me and held me as I sobbed into his shoulder.

"It was so real," I whispered.

"I know, I know. But you're safe now, you're okay. I've got you."


	7. Chapter 7

I didn't know what it was about him. Well, that's not quite true. It was those eyes, god. Even seeing him from across the courtyard. They looked like the could just see into your very existence. Those gorgeous pink lips. I tried to deny that I wanted him. He was only a kid for god's sake. He didn't seem it.

He had quirked a smile at me, he knew I had been watching him. I didn't even know his name but I knew that I wanted to. Most of the boys in the year below and in my own year were good for a quick shag. That's just what you have to do in an all boy school, you're not exactly spoiled for choice.

I probably wouldn't have had the nerve to talk to him if I hadn't been paired with him as his mentor. Christ, he was younger than I thought. He was coy though, flirtatious. I loved it. Everything he said sounded so breathy and lyrical. I tried to be smooth and suave around him but found myself floundering. I hadn't felt like this before.

It wasn't long before I ended up showering the little boy with my affection. It alarmed me just how much he had charmed my fellow classmates. They all spoke of the little dark haired mysterious little boy. My Tim. I had to keep him, he was such a bright change to the full monotonous bravado of public school boys and their childish ways.

I would hold his hand and pull him close to me as we stood in the courtyard smoking. It seemed to confuse the other boys. No one did things like this. We may have sucked each other off but no one was allowed to be queer. I didn't care. I had won him fair and square and I would do what I liked.

Tim was always quiet. Always watching. He never gave much of a response to my admiration besides a polite and non committal thank you. I needed to understand this strange boy. I needed him to love me.


	8. Chapter 8

Thank you for the kind reviews, they keep me going, like a delicious fruity cocktail under a parching sun. I'll see what I can do dearies, always a pleasure,  
Jay

_

Tim, call me, please.

Tim stop being childish. Call me.

Please.

You don't have to tell me where you are just tell me you're okay.

(3) Voicemail

(4) Voicemail

Just come home and we can talk about it.

There was an overwhelming temptation to throw my phone into the icy water below. Now the thought was in my head, it wasn't going to let go. But I resisted.

What had I done?

I'd just called Ivo a rapist.

He was though. No, no, stop thinking it. It wasn't like that.

We both know it was. You remember, like James, yeah?

Stop it.

My phone bleeped again. It was Isabel. Great, now Ivo was using her against me.

Tim, he's worried about you. Please call him.

I wanted to be stubborn. I hated the control he had over me, that he could make his demands and I would go running. I wasn't doing it anymore. I hated this. I hated that some small part of me wished that he had never come back. I would rather have been haunted by his ghost than by his real life presence.

I felt so stupid. Everything I had done. Ivo called me lethal. I was. I didn't mean to be.

Why had I ever loved Isabel? It seemed strange to me now. Knowing she was Ivo's sister had changed that. I had been infatuated with her, Ivo had helped me see that. He took care of me but it wasn't like all the others. Not like James when he would give me pocket money. At first I thought that was like now with Ivo. He paid the rent and I slept with him but this was different, he explained it all to me.

"I know it's confusing and you associate being with me with your abuse because I'm older but it's different Tim. I know it's hard for you to come to terms with what happened but we'll work it out, yeah?"

Thinking of it made me ill now. I couldn't believe I had said that to him. That I had called him that. He would hate me for it.

He did though.

No, he didn't. He wouldn't have if he'd known. I didn't even say no for Christ sake.

You didn't tell James no.

"That was different," I said aloud, startling myself. I glanced around but no one was there. My phone lit up again.

Ivo's number shown on the screen. I answered.

"Tim, Tim please don't hang up," he said quickly.

"I'm sorry Ivo," I said quietly.

"You're..sorry, why?" He sounded genuinely confused.

"I practically called you a rapist," I almost sobbed but I tried to hold it together.

"Just come home Tim, please. I need to know you're okay. We can talk, no you can talk and I'll listen. I promise, just, please."

"Okay," I agreed. "I'll be home soon," I told him before hanging up the phone.


	9. Chapter 9

I heard the key in the door and automatically sprang from the sofa, going to meet him in the hallway. He was dripping wet, evidently the rain was heavier than I initially thought. He didn't look at me as he removed his jacket and his shoes. A rule I had implemented. It surprised me that he was following it at a time like this.

"Hey," I said hesitantly. He nodded in my general direction.

"You look cold, I'll make you some tea, yeah?" I backed towards the kitchen, watching him for a response but he never gave me one. He simply stared at the floor, falling to one side to lean against the wall.

"Tim?"

Nothing. Maybe he just needed some space. I went into the kitchen, straining to listen for any sounds from the hallway. My attempts were ruined by the noisy boiling of the kettle.

"Ivo."

If he hadn't been standing in the doorway I would have thought I had imagined the quiet whisper. I went to him and slowly put a hand on his shoulder. He didn't push me off which was a good sign. I tried to get him to look at me and when he finally did I wished he hadn't.

My beautiful little boy looked so broken. There was a dullness to the usual twinkle in his eye. He looked worn out and his dripping hair didn't help. I reluctantly left to find him a towel, plucking one off the bathroom radiator in the hope that the dry heat would help. He didn't move to take it from me so I stood behind him and dried him myself, slowly working my hands through his hair with the towel until he was only slightly damp.

He just stood motionless, staring at his feet. The toes of his socks were soaked through and I ran into the bedroom to find him a pair, not knowing the difference between his and my own. I grabbed a miscellaneous thick, comfy pair and returned to the kitchen, alarmed to find him exactly the way I had left him.

"Let's go sit down, okay?"

He followed quietly as I steered him to the living room. I sat next to him on the sofa and let out a breath of surprise when he laid down and placed his head in my lap. I smoothed his hair back from his beautiful young face and he snuffled quietly. Was he crying?

"I didn't mean it," he said softly. "I didn't mean to say that, it was horrible of me."

He drew his hand up to his mouth, chewing at his sleeve.

"I know love, it's okay," I replied, my stomach twisting horribly as I was reminded of one of my biggest regrets in life.

"I know you wouldn't hurt me, not really," he laughed softly. I continued to stroke his hair and he sighed gently.

"I love you Ivo, I really do," he said like it was a matter of urgency, his fingers thrumming on my leg in his anxiety. I guided him up to sit next to me so that I could look at him. I needed to look into his gorgeous doe eyes and assure him that everything was okay. Nothing this infuriating, lethal, toxic little boy could do would ever make me stop loving him. I needed his impish little grin and the feel of him in my arms.

"Just don't run out on me again, okay? When you're upset, just talk to me," I scolded him, pulling him onto my lap and cuddling him close, breathing the smell of his shampoo. His hand tightened around my shirt at my chest and he snuggled closer. I wanted the moment to last forever.


	10. Chapter 10

Tim's squeal of delight was music to my ears. He'd been so quiet with me, so closed off. I wanted to find a way to connect with him, to make him understand that I was not the enemy. I had pondered for an age what to do for Valentine's day and Martin had found me in my office with my head down on the desk.

"What seems to be the problem, old boy," he asked, leaning on the corner of the desk and giving me a quizzical look.

"I'm fine," I said, not wanting him to pry into things but knowing he would.

"Relationship woes?"

"No, not really. Sort of," I finished lamely.

I didn't feel worried about opening up to Martin, he wasn't judgmental like most people and he had no problem with my 'relationship woes' involving other men. He just took me for what I was, occasionally using me as something to ponder over and write something lyrical about me being some sort of contradiction or a mysterious soul. He meant well so I let him have his moments.

"I was just thinking about Valentine's day," I told him and he gave an understanding 'Ah'.

"I see," he laughed. "The eternal question, flowers or chocolates. Always buy both," he said in mock severity.

"He does like food," I laughed, imagining how Tim would be home right now, staring petulantly at the cupboard, complaining about the lack of food but never going out to hunt for himself. Clearly I was the alpha male who provided the kill while he sat around looking pretty.

"I could get him a book," I suggested hopefully and Martin rolled his eyes.

"I'm sure that will get his heart racing," he said dryly. Isabel had told me I had awful taste. I could ask her to pick something but somehow that left me with a cold feeling inside. Her buying something romantic and thoughtful for my boyfriend, his delighted smile when he opened it and gazed at it in its perfection.

"Ivo, are you alright?" Martin snapped me out of my inner battle and I noticed I had been clutching my pen tighter.

"What do you love doing together," he asked trying to be helpful. I gave him an awkward glance and he seemed to understand.

"Ah, right," he chuckled. "Young love and all that. Well I'm sure there are a number of establishments that cater for that sort of romantic interest," he said with a dead pan expression and I couldn't contain my laughter at his professional manner.

"No Martin," I scolded him.

"Take him somewhere nice, make it a surprise. Something whimsical and impulsive and he is sure to be blown away," he winked at me and I stared at him, half bemused and half repulsed by his innuendos.

"You like it?"

"Oh Ivo I love it," Tim sighed happily, stretching back on the double bed of our five star hotel room. He bounced back up to look out the window at the London skyline. It was beautiful as it twinkled merrily and I wrapped my arms around his waist and pulled him close, breathing in the smell of him.

"It's perfect," he said boyishly, his excitement infectious.

He turned to face me, sliding his own arms around me. He kissed me softly on the lips.

"Fuck me, Ivo," he whispered, catching me off guard. He wasn't usually so forward but I wasn't about to complain. The look in his eyes was intoxicating. It was something I hadn't realised I had waited a lifetime for until now.


	11. Chapter 11

I mentally went through the list in my head of everything to buy at the shop. Tim had said something about biscuits but for the life of me I couldn't remember what they were called. He'd probably eat anything though. If I asked him to write it down for me he would probably make a joke that I was going senile. I probably was.

Washing my hands I left the bathroom and make the awkward walk back to the table with the occasional glances from other diners. Great, now I wasn't sure exactly where my table was. I was confused that none of them seemed to have an empty seat bar one with a very stony faced woman at it. That was definitely not Tim.

Eventually I saw him and I tried to communicate with him silently to know if I should leave and come back, he was talking to someone but he called me over with a wave and a smile.

I was wary of having to meet a relation, how does one introduce each other to the family in that scenario? "Hello, I'm fucking your nephew with no promise of marriage and children, have you tried the salmon?"

"Ivo," he said breathily, pulling my hand so that I stood beside him. I wasn't sure what to do with myself so I rested my hands on his shoulders. I leaned over to offer a hand to the man opposite.

"Ivo, nice to meet you," I said pleasantly, hoping I wasn't about to be questioned by a strange, suited man.

"Yes," he replied, implying it wasn't very nice at all. "You to, well," he said, standing. "I best be off," he said with a glance at Tim. I looked down at him and saw that he seemed to be staring at the cutlery.

"Good to see you," he mumbled quietly. I stared back at the man, who was this guy? He gave an awkward nod before going over to join the sour faced woman.

"Who was that," I asked lightly, sitting back in my seat and taking my card back from the little black book on the table and offering Tim a mint. He took one and began to unwrap it.

"James," he said slowly, not looking at me and trying to act casual. "We went to school together."

I blinked.

"James," I repeated in a whisper. Tim looked up at me for a millisecond and then back at his shoes. I stared at Tim from across the table, leaning back in my chair. The room was spinning a little and I closed my eyes.

"That James," I asked, quirking an eyebrow at him. He gave a small nod and his lip twitched the same way it would do when his eyes were all watery.

"Who's the woman?"

"His wife," he sighed sadly.

...

"You shouldn't have hit him," I told him off quite happily as we sat in the kitchen, putting bandages across his hand. Thankfully he hadn't broken anything on that stupid little shit's face or no doubt we would have had a law suit. He gave a non-committal sound.

I replayed the scene over and over in my head and once the initial shock was out of the way it was bloody brilliant to watch. The look on Jame's face as he watched Ivo slowly walk over, his panic rising. His wife's shrieking as Ivo lunged across the table at him, dragging him to the floor.

"You fucking pervert," he had yelled all over the restaurant, James staring up at him like he was a madman, appealing to the staff to have him removed.

"You little shit, I will kill you for what you did to him, if I ever see your sorry excuse for an existence near him again I swear to God I will hurt you."

I can only imagine to James what Ivo must have looked like with his leather jacket and gold chain around his neck. His threats were clearly far from empty. I stood, speechless, until Ivo marched over and took my hand in his. He pulled me forcefully because I was practically rooted to the spot, watching the staff help James up and clear salad off the floor.

"You all saw that," James said loudly. "He attacked me, completely unprovoked," he said in his posh voice and I only just managed to hold onto Ivo, the doorman having to help me restrain him. Needless to say we wouldn't be going back to that restaurant any time soon.

He hissed a little as I put the antiseptic on his hand.

"Sorry," I smiled at him, running my thumb over his knuckles gently.

"Ivo," I started, unsure how to finish. "Thanks. You, know, for dinner and..stuff."

My lips parted as his thumb came up to caress them, his hand delicately resting on my cheek.

"Believe me, I wanted to do worse. It's lucky you stopped me," he said darkly. "For him at least."

I looked at him in our small little kitchen. My knight and my protector who would fight away my enemies. By default I suppose that made me the damsel in distress but maybe Ivo needed that. I think, for now at least, I needed it too.


	12. Chapter 12

"I have this thing later," I told him quietly.

He looked up at me in interest so I went on.

"It's a dinner with some colleagues and a few people interested in donating to the University."

I wondered to myself why I had decided upon asking Tim to come with me. Especially knowing that at present it was quite socially unacceptable for a man to be my date for the evening. For such a young man. For a student. I'd made myself feel quite ill. His face had beamed at me when I had asked him and he talked animatedly to me about it over dinner. Gradually with more wine he became more amorous and in true twenty something fashion, clambering for sexual attention.

I had loved it. The prospect of showing Tim off was, admittedly, thrilling. His beautiful features would undoubtedly cause my female colleagues to descend into giggling mush and I relished the idea that he would flirt with his boyish charms, leaving the whole room vying for his attention and then I would drag him home before viciously claiming him as my own. The thought alone left me panting.

"When will you be home," he asked in a small voice that seemed woefully out of context. It was the same voice he used when asking where I was going after sex. It seemed dejected and vulnerable. I watched him as he re-organised things in his already sorted bag, not looking at me now.

"I said I was sorry," I reminded him childishly and he paused in his fidgeting for a moment, a book suspended halfway to the bag.

"I just don't get why you had to ask me in the first place," he muttered darkly, giving me a cursory glance.

I hated that I had. I had become so wrapped up in the moment that I lost my usual logical manner of thinking. Bringing Tim would have been a risky career move but not being able to do it made me want to more. I wanted to walk around proudly telling everyone that would listen that he was with me, that somehow that gorgeous creature chose to spend time with me.

It had astonished me in my office that day. I knew the look he was giving me but I had rarely seen it. The first night, god, the thought of it. The first night I had touched him gently, breathing on his neck, kissing his stomach and along his inner thigh. He had writhed wantonly beneath me in a manner that made my cheeks burn. I will never understand why I held so much appeal to that irresistible boy.

I sussed that it had something to do with his fetish for being controlled, told what to do and marginally abused while doing it. Something I seemed to be morphing towards. If that's what Tim needed I would be it, because I needed Tim.

"Tim, don't be like that," I said scornfully. "You know I want you to come but I can't exactly parade you around for everyone to quietly judge me."

"So," he snapped. "Why do you care what they think?"

"It's not like that."

"Then what is it," he demanded, standing taller and looking me square in the eye, more of a man than I had ever seen in him. It alarmed me.

"Go to your stupid dinner," he hissed, turning on his heel and marching to the bedroom.


	13. Chapter 13

Nothing was like this. Nothing.

Tim, stretched out beneath me, screaming like some cheap whore. The excitement and overwhelming sensations causing me to choke up and become silent. His eyes caught the light of the street every now and then and shimmered up at me delicately. I would never get enough of this creature.

His fingernails felt like knives as he pierced them into my shoulders, his face buried in the crook of my neck and his legs wrapped around me. If I had been able to make a sound, I know doubt would have rivaled Tim. He sounded like I was murdering him violently. So many times I had stopped mid-sex to try and quieten him but now, I wanted him to be hoarse tomorrow.

He would pause every so often and give me a tender glance, his hands un-clenching on my skin, his lips parting into an 'o'. He would sigh breathily as I stopped my movements and look at me for some sort of explanation. I would just look at him, cherishing his delicate beauty even while he lay panting and soaked in sweat.

I was the most resistible creature on the planet and yet Tim acted like I were some kind of drug that had presented him with withdrawal symptoms. His moans would caress my ear and send electric pulses through all my nerve endings.

"Ivo," he breathed into me, the feel of it, hot and sticky on my neck. "Oh god Ivo, I'm going to come," he sighed heavily.

I pulled out and he gasped, his eyes wide as I stood. He was confused. He needn't have worried. I would always take care of him. I held a hand out to him and he took it softly in his allowing me to pull him up. He resisted a little when I encouraged him to stand and he gave me a quizzical look.

It made me laugh when he could barely stand on his shaky legs.

"Ivo, what are you doing," he panted as I pulled him along with me, placing his two hands onto the expanse of wall in the hallway and nudging a hand between his legs to part them. He had suggested having sex in the hallway before and I had blushed, muttering that the neighbours might hear.

He looked at me in shock over his shoulder as I slowly pressed up against him again. He exclaimed loudly when I pressed back into him and he leaned back onto my shoulder, his knees giving out beneath him. Thankfully I was strong enough to hold him there because I didn't want him to end up with carpet burn if I hadn't been able to support us both.

"Ivo," he tried to hiss quietly. I laughed deeply.

"I want you to scream for me, it's what you want isn't it?"

He was looking at me like he was only seeing me for the first time, a sultry half glance behind himself. I kissed his cheek softly and he gave a gentle sigh.

"I want people to know what we're doing and for how long," I hissed. "How good it makes you feel, is it good Tim?"

He moaned in a way I hadn't heard before and I felt sparks go through me. For the next few minutes I pondered whether the police would turn up. The entire street had probably heard his cries of ecstasy.

"Tell me how it feels," I demanded, my hand clenched tightly at his hip. "Tell me, Tim."

"So good," he whimpered pathetically, rapidly losing all coherency. I loved watching him come apart like this knowing that the next morning he would wander about the flat in a kind of trance. He had a habit of humming to himself as he picked things up before setting them down again, lost in his own thoughts. I relished that I was the one to penetrate his mind as well as his body.

He could barely find any purchase with his clammy hands on the wall and instead brought them down behind himself to rest on my thighs. He continued to moan and pant, becoming increasingly louder as though he were putting on a show for me. The sound went straight through me like an electric current.

A minute later he gave a final scream and practically collapsed, I held onto him and joined him a second later. He lay panting on the floor and I stroked his leg soothingly as though he were an injured animal. He opened and closed his mouth repeatedly, trying to form words. He looked like he wouldn't even be able to tell me his name right now so I just shushed him and pulled him up, dragging him back to bed and under the covers where I snuggled up behind him.

He was shaking and I tried to warm him by running my hand over his chest. It took quite a while before I felt him drift off beside me.

Fucking hell did I love him.


	14. Chapter 14

I practically had to throw him out the door earlier, trying to make sure he would go out with his friends and not just mope around the flat. I'd have kept him by my side all the time if I had my way but Isabel had warned me not to suffocate him or smother him so I begrudgingly mentioned his friends one evening, suggesting he meet up with them.

Understandably he had been suspicious of my motives seeing as I had never mentioned it before but now that we were actually trying to be in a proper relationship I wanted him to be happy in all aspects of his life and not just the parts with me in it.

I probably should have done something with my evening but instead I moped around the flat. When I tired of reading I would attempt to watch the television but I was restless. I should have realised that letting Tim out on a longer leash would cause me to be agitated and nervous for the evening. I wondered who he was with and what he was doing, who he was talking to.

It's not that I didn't trust him, I just knew that he had a track record for trying to please anyone and everyone and when you had a boyfriend who looked like he did it was almost guaranteed he would be hit on all the time.

I regretted having told him to go out anywhere by the time he came home. It was nearing three in the morning and I will never be able to work out how he managed to get home safely when it was apparent he could barely tell you his own name.

I'd still been up and met him at the door, taking in his glassy eyes expression and rumpled appearance before pulling him into the flat. I tried to be stern but his antics just made me laugh affectionately. It was his boyish charms that let him get away with everything and though I tried I couldn't stay annoyed at him. My stomach gave an uncomfortable pang when I saw the traces of lipstick near his lips but I tried to reason it off and not think the worst. Tim had told me to trust him and I was going to.

"Ivo," he had slurred with a cheeky smile. "What are you doing here," he laughed to himself.

"I live here," I told him and he raised his eyebrows in surprise.

"I live here too," he exclaimed happily.

"Right," I replied warily, trying to detangle him from his own coat and scarf.

He watched me as I undid his shoelaces, pulling his shoes from his feet and trying to steady him as he became unbalanced. Even in this state he was still so endearing and I cursed myself for being so infatuated with this boy.

"Dance with me Ivo," he sighed sleepily as I tried to steer him towards the bedroom, his expression changing to something sultry.

"Mmmmm, yes," he whispered, planting a sloppy kiss near my mouth. "Let's fuck," he whispered, probably sounding sexy in his own head. He scrunched up his face in confusion when I laughed.

"No, Tim. It's bedtime."

He fell onto the bed with a soft thump before laying back languidly on the duvet, his eyes watching me as I opened drawers to find pyjamas for him. By the time I had found some for him he had already closed his eyes and was snoring softly.

I unbuttoned his shirt and tried to peel it away from him without jostling him too much. Each time my fingers brushed his skin he would give a soft hum and snuggle further into the bed covers. Taking his jeans off was more of a challenge but I managed eventually, pulling the cover over him and putting an empty bin beside him on the floor in case he threw up.

I wondered whether it was even worth falling asleep but I cuddled up close behind him anyway, smoothing his still sweaty hair back from his forehead and kissing his cheek. I felt warmed by his soft sigh of contentment and soon join him in sleep.


	15. Chapter 15

Watching them was addictive in equal measure to its cruelty. My brother seemed so at peace when he had Tim with him but I could tell that underneath he was like a burning furnace, sometimes with anger but mostly with passion.

I wondered how we had ever managed to get past everything that had gone on between us and reach the point we were now at. Seeing them together only increased the inner guilt I felt. I had never seen Ivo like this. Ivo had never been one to long for what he didn't have and had always been relatively contented in life but I knew when he was alone that he was pining. He was lost without Tim.

Tim had such a child like grace to his actions, playfully pulling at Ivo's arm as they walked along the promenade and it reminded me so much of Ivo and myself as children. He would shake his head affectionately at Tim as he had with me and would scold him. The difference being that Tim could so easily manipulate a smile or a laugh from him, breaking down the barriers that Ivo believed he had perfected for years.

I hate to admit that I had watched them from the doorway one evening as they lounged across the sofa in the small cottage we had rented. Tim was curled up in Ivo's lap having his hair stroked and endearments whispered to him. I shouldn't have stood there as long as I did but I couldn't bring myself to look away from the scene of domestic bliss.

The entire weekend I could feel Ivo watching me carefully, evaluating the situation, trying to discern my feelings about it all. I found myself trying to portray someone who was happy in other people's happiness but I was jealous. It hurt that he had professed such a love for me barely a year ago and now treated me like a distant cousin. He only had eyes for my brother and I resented that I had been the one to prove to him he wanted no one else.

I could barely hold back tears as I heard them making love through the wall one night, the thought turning my stomach. I had expected Tim preferred my brother because of his ferocity and masculinity but I was entirely wrong. There were hushed whispers and declarations of love in a gentleness I had never heard from Ivo in the lifetime I had known him. It seemed he reserved all of his redeeming qualities for Tim and Tim alone.

I should have been happy for him, to see him so happy but instead I found myself trying to be coy with Tim, flirtatious even. I thought that I was being kind to my brother's boyfriend but that was a blatant lie to myself. It's no wonder Ivo was on edge the entire weekend. Tim was polite and completely above surface, trying not to spend too much time alone with me and verging no deeper in conversation than the weather when Ivo was absent. He was trying to pretend that nothing had ever happened between us and I so desperately wanted to ask how he could so callously lose interest in me.

I loved my brother above all else and it made me feel cold inside to know that he loved another more than he loved me, it hurt more knowing that I had brought it upon myself.


	16. Chapter 16

"Tim, you are a funny one," James laughed, affectionately ruffling my hair before pulling me closer to him. Everything he did however was with hesitancy. He was simply waiting for me to push him away from me, to run away screaming. He believed me to be fragile.

Slowly he leaned in to kiss me, his lips lightly brushing over mine. I closed my eyes but felt him pull back in order to look at me, to gauge my reaction before going further. I didn't decline and so he moved in again, this time more forceful. His lips parted mine and I felt the wet heat as his slid across my bottom lip when he pulled it into his mouth. I didn't understand how it was intended to be pleasurable but he gave a soft moan, resting his hand on my cheek before kissing me deeper than before.

His other hand came up to rest on my inner thigh and I felt a jolt go through me but I ignored it. As James pulled away I gave a soft sigh and enjoyed the smile on his face. He was quite handsome in a way and I would much prefer his advances than some of the other boys. At least when James was around the others let me be for a while.

It gave me a sense of worth when they wanted me. I knew they only wanted me for the sake of sexual gratification but they would whisper kind things to me, stroke my hair and give me affection. I was willing to take love in whatever form it was offered to me, the feeling of being hugged was so lovely that I wasn't about to give it up.

I knew that it was my feminine features and quiet demeanor that made me so desirable. At least this way when they had my mouth wrapped around them they could pretend to themselves that they were pretending it was a girl. They believed they could manipulate me into wanting it and into not telling anyone when I was never going to anyway.

James took care of me, ensuring that I was rewarded for my efforts and so I felt the least I could do was give him some kind of happiness in this lonely place. I wore his scarf around the school and he would gaze at me in admiration when he saw me.

At first I had hated it all. Everything hurt and I felt so trapped but after a while, it wasn't so bad. James had tried to relax me to make it easier and I dreaded to think what it would have been like with one of the other boys the first time. I knew James felt something for me, it was more than sexual. Most nights he would sneak into my dorm and cuddle me underneath the bedclothes, sneaking away in the morning. Leythe was a lonely place and I couldn't hate him for wanting some form of comfort there.

Ivo didn't understand. He thought they were all perverse and demonic for having wanted me at all. He had demanded to know why I hadn't told anyone what they were doing which made no sense to me. I had wanted them to, it had been useful to me. They helped me with my homework and kept the bullies away from me.

I would never be able to make him understand. I wish none of it had ever happened but no matter what I can't change that it did. I resented that Ivo couldn't just let me reason it in my own mind when it was the only way I had of dealing with it. I needed to feel like I had wanted it so as not to feel as powerless and trapped. It was the only way of keeping the nightmares at bay and the only way I could stay with Ivo.


	17. Chapter 17

It had been so thrilling to have Ivo chasing after me for the afternoon. I was being coy with him and teasing and he took the bait easily. He had phoned me from his office asking me what I was doing and the thought of it flattered me; that he couldn't bear being away from me.

He had looked thoroughly depressed as he had headed out the door to work, no doubt frustrated that we hadn't properly seen each other in days. I had been awake when he was up but I feigned sleep to tease him further. He had leaned over and kissed my neck whispering to ask if I was awake before giving up and heading to the shower.

I had watched the clock all day waiting for him to come home and my heart gave a double beat when I heard his key in the front door. I met him in the hallway and had the breath knocked from me as he grabbed me into a heated kiss, his hand curled in a strong grip in my hair and his other held tight at my waist. He took in my shirtless appearance and I could see how black his pupils were, dilated with a sustained lust.

"Mmm, Ivo," I smiled at him, reveling in the hunger his eyes showed. He kissed below my ear murmuring to stay where I was and I didn't even think not to. I just rested against the wall trying to catch my breath only to lose it again when he returned. I turned to face the wall, looking back at him and giving him a look I knew he couldn't resist. He disappeared into the bathroom and I felt a twinge of annoyance that he just expected me to be lying in wait for him without any kind of foreplay.

I expected Ivo would have taken my jeans off but he seemed to be taking quite a while in the bathroom so I begrudgingly did it myself, feeling more like I was at the doctor's surgery than in any romantic setting. The fact that I hadn't been wearing underwear was lost on Ivo now but I could always do it again another time.

He returned to the hallway, shirtless himself but still in his trousers, I turned to pull him towards me attempting to unbutton them but he swatted my hand away, touching and caressing me until I was fully hard. I watched, semi in shock as he took me in his mouth and proceeded to give me one of the best blowjobs I had ever had.

I expected he would have stopped halfway through to turn me around and have his way with me but instead he just held tightly onto my hips as I moaned his name in my climax. He looked up at me, gauging my reaction to what had just happened. I couldn't even think of any words, they were all just a jumble.

He stood, lightly smoothing the back of his hand across my cheek and I leaned into the touch.

Reaching forward to unbutton his trousers, I was once again batted away.

"It's alright," he said softly. "I just wanted to do that," he assured me. He stooped down to pick up my jeans before handing them to me.

"What's for dinner," he asked casually before heading towards the kitchen. Pulling my jeans on quickly, I followed him.

"Ivo, are you sure you don't want me to-"

"Positive," he laughed.


	18. Chapter 18

"What's with you?"

Tim looked up at me over his notebook, evidently confused.

"What do you mean?"

I tried to discern the look he was giving me, whether he was trying to convince me that he didn't know what I was talking about and in reality felt guilty.

"Why do you keep asking about Isabel," I asked, noticing how uncomfortable he became almost instantly. Clearly he regretted mentioning her.

"I'd have thought you would want to stay away from her, not see more of her," I continued.

From the minute he first suggested we go away for the weekend with Isabel I had been panicking. I considered that he missed her and that he was still torn between the two of us, that he needed to know her better before making his choice. Part of me wrongly thought he intended to cheat on me with her again and I couldn't fathom why he had wanted me to be there when the two of them could have run off together.

"She's your sister," he half whispered while looking guilty. "I don't know," he hesitated. "I guess I feel guilty that I came between you both. I'm not really sure how to fix it," he sighed heavily while staring vacantly in the direction of the floor.

I could only stare at him. I had always thought of myself as the only one in the relationship with any self realisation. I had long since accepted the fact that Tim was a selfish little bastard who would do whatever he pleased and whatever suited him, not because he didn't care for anyone else but simply because it never occurred to him to think of something from someone else's perspective.

I concluded that it was idiotic of me to expect more from such a damaged little boy who had grown up alone in the world. There was never anyone else to think of but himself so why should he. I thought back on the Tim I had first known and how self absorbed he had been. It felt wrong to think that I had trained him but he had definitely changed.

I had stood for a moment in a reverent silence on the morning when he poured me the last of the cereal before making himself something else. Entirely insignificant for the most part but to me it was a sign that I lived in Tim's world outside of an external existence. He had wanted something and yet paused to ponder if I might want it too, before considering my need as greater than his own.

I felt cruel for having assumed his intentions were anything other than kind when he tried to befriend Isabel. I realised how self-absorbed I had been over the past few months, barely acknowledging how difficult it must have been for him to sacrifice his own pride so that I could maintain a relationship with my sister.

I imagined his inner turmoil in trying to repress any feelings he had for her whether they be sexual or emotional and I felt an admiration for him for constantly putting himself in that position. I had assumed he had wanted to be there rather than from his perspective of him wanting me to be happy.

"I didn't realise," I told him quietly, trying not to make it obvious that I felt ashamed of myself.

"I want to fix it," he said sadly, looking at me with puppy dog eyes that looked slightly watery. "If you need me to stay away from her, I can," he said earnestly as he set his book to the side.

"Just tell me what I need to do." He stood rather awkwardly in front me me, watching me expectantly for an answer. I wasn't sure what to tell him.

"You don't have to stay away from her," I clarified, pulling him into a hug. He rested his head on my shoulder and nestled into me, tightly winding his arms around my waist in a tight embrace. It felt like he was clinging to me like a piece of driftwood in a turbulent sea. We stood like that for a few moments and I was startled to hear his quiet snuffling that turned into stifled sobs.

"I'm so sorry Ivo, I just don't know what to do," he whispered thickly.

"It's alright," I tried to soothe him. "We'll figure it out, okay," I assured him and he nodded before snuggling back into me. I steered him to the sofa and pulled him into my arms. He tucked his long legs beneath himself and rested against me, his fingers tracing patterns on my forearms.

I cradled him in an attempt to comfort and my heart swelled at the sheer intimacy of the moment. He gave a soft sigh as I kissed him on the top of his head and inhaled the sweet smell of his shampoo. I had been so wrong about this boy.


	19. Chapter 19

"Ivo?"

I hated when Tim interrupted me every time I had a book in my hand but I looked up anyway.

"Yeah?"

"Can I ask a favour?"

I closed the book and balanced it on the arm of the chair and he took it as an invitation to sit down.

"Could you drive me to Suffolk tomorrow?"

I very nearly rolled my eyes thinking about everything I had planned to do the following day and finding it typical that he would change my plans simply by batting his eyelashes at me.

"What for," I asked, trying to discern its importance before I refused.

"Funeral," he mumbled, not looking at me. He picked at the edge of the sofa and resolutely stared at the small pieces of fluff.

"Whose funeral?"

"Mum's," he answered quietly.

I could almost feel the colour drain from me as I stared at him.

"Jesus, Tim," I sighed before putting my hand on the back of his neck. For the most part I had practically forgotten about his mother's existence. Tim had mentioned that she had moved into a residential home to me a few months ago but other than that had stayed silent on the matter.

"Why didn't you say anything," I asked him and his eyes closed. He merely shrugged. It seemed like such a paradox that he seemed like such a lost little child but had been acting like an adult all this time without my even noticing.

"The funeral is tomorrow," I tried to clarify and he shook his head.

"Just have to go back to organise it all, flowers and stuff."

I watched him chew at his sleeve for a moment.

"I can help," I offered. "If you need me to."

He gave a brief nod before laying down on the sofa with his head in my lap, a habit of his but not one I particularly minded. I smoothed his hair back from his face and reached down to pull his hand away from his mouth and hold it in my own.

It seemed like my own words were coming back to haunt me when I had chided him for having never asked about my family. What had convinced me I was well versed in his? It had been cruel and hypocritical of me to constantly think Tim a selfish being with no interest in anyone but himself.

I would call Isabel, she would know about what flowers to pick and what prayers to read. I was entirely useless in anything but the organisational side and it was unfair to leave it all to Tim.

He had told me once about having grown up in the tiny coastal town, alone except for parents who weren't overly keen on his presence. I had commented once during a row of ours that as an only child he was just used to getting his way and being spoilt rotten and I felt like an idiot when it slowly became clear that this was not the case.

Each time I thought I understood Tim and his motives I would be proved entirely wrong. I had thought a childhood of being cherished and loved made him believe anyone would love him. I thought that was why he could never commit to one person and so flirted with almost everyone. He could never resist someone who showed any interest in him.

Now I finally understood the quiet tragedy of his existence and I hated myself for how I had acted before. He never experienced the adoration that I believed he had.

Tim would always leave someone or hurt someone before they had the chance to do it to him. I had left after our last fight to have a few drinks with Martin, not telling him where I was going just to spite him for all the times he had done it to me. I ignored his calls all evening and had returned to find him passed out on the sofa, curled up in a tiny ball with the phone clutched in one hand.

It had been worse than if someone had simply stabbed me in the chest. He looked so pathetic that I had to wake him. His eyes had lit up when he saw me despite the horrible things I had said to him and he sobbed into me begging me to never leave him, apologising over and over.

I heard his soft snuffling and peered over to see if he was sleeping. I knew I would eventually have to wake him and put him to bed but for now I just lifted my book and let him rest there.


	20. Chapter 20

I could feel my stomach twisting into knots each time Tim let out a moan, his pale form soaked in sweat and his face contorted into one of pain and anguish.

I felt so useless as I watched in writhe beside me, tormented by the horrors in his own mind. Each time I had woken him before during the night he would shiver and sob for a while before trying to fall back asleep, only for the nightmare to start again.

Glancing at the clock I felt a cold dread run through me that is was now seven in the morning and starting to grow light outside the window. I thought about the nine o'clock lecture I had to give and groaned feeling both aggravated by Tim and guilty.

Slowly I eased myself from under the covers and headed to the bathroom to get ready, consoling myself with the thought that I could work from home in the afternoon and catch up on some much needed sleep. Brushing my teeth I stared down at the sink resolutely when Tim's moans then turned into screams of terror, to the point that I could not take it any longer and marched to the bedroom to shake him awake.

I had startled him and he drew back from me in fear, clambering to the other side of the bed. His eyes darted around the room, evaluating the situation and he watched me carefully.

"You were having a nightmare," I told him with very little empathy and went back to my morning routine, abandoning him in the knowledge that I couldn't be late for the third morning in a row. I could hear him snivel quietly and head into the kitchen.

He would probably want a cigarette but I had put a stop to it owing to how bad his nerves were, the last thing he needed was the nicotine addiction. I missed them myself, having agreed to stop if he did. For all I knew he was probably sneaking them every so often anyway.

I had to repeatedly step around him in the kitchen as he kept getting in the way, unsure of what to do with himself as he opened random cupboards and vaguely glanced at the contents before closing them again.

"Tim what are you doing?"

He shrugged at me and finally settled on getting some fruit juice from the fridge, drinking it straight from the carton.

"I told you to get a glass when you want something," I huffed at him and he glared straight back.

"Why? You're the only other person who lives here," he replied moodily.

"We could have guests," I chided, getting more fed up as he continued to drink from the carton.

Pouring myself coffee I let it cool as I got changed for work, Tim watching me the whole time from each different doorway. I used to find it endearing when he followed me around like a little child but now it was getting on my nerves.

"Do you want something," I asked rudely and he looked at me a little taken aback.

"No," he replied icily and stalked off to the living room, no doubt to read one of his stupid romantic novels and cry woe over the fact that I wasn't like the characters in his book. I shook my head, tired, irritable and exasperated before going to throw my coffee down my throat and find my papers.

"Did you move the papers from my desk," I called in to him after I had grown tired of searching through all the paperwork on my desk. He didn't reply and I had to go to the living room so that he would hear me. He looked up, sure enough from a novel and looked at me expressionless.

"Did you move my papers?"

"No."

I thought he had been annoying me before but it had reached a whole new level know as he looked at me with a bemused expression. I huffed before grabbing my coat and my keys, not stopping to kiss him goodbye before reaching the front door.

"Have a nice day," he called sarcastically and I slammed the door behind me.


	21. Chapter 21

I gently allowed the door to click softly closed behind me and then allowed myself to rest against it. I was exhausted from work and from the drive home in rush hour traffic. You would never think that sitting still for hours would be so draining but now I just wanted to melt into the hideous beige carpet. I knew Tim would still be home but he didn't come to find me. He was probably hiding somewhere and I didn't blame him. Even I was a little frightened of myself when I was pissed off. And I was pissed off.

It had taken me longer than I anticipated to reach the university that morning and consequently I was late for the third morning in a row. I spent the entire first hour with students judging my rumpled appearance and exhausted demeanor and sniggering at the thought of what had given me such a late night.

A few then whined to met that they had wanted their papers back for the weekend break and it took a lot of my resolve not to simply sit down on the floor and cry with exhaustion. In that moment I didn't believe I could loathe Tim any more than what I did and all the reasons why sprang to mind. Even the ones that didn't really bother me at all. I just needed to hate him for a while.

Sliding my jacket off I threw it vaguely in the direction of the coat hook and headed straight to my office to pour myself a drink, noticing with a pang of hatred that the papers were stacked neatly in the center of my desk. I leant against the counter to take a swig of alcohol, hoping it would calm my thrumming heart and my anger.

He would probably tell me that they were there all along and that I should look more with my eyes and less with my mouth. I went over to them and saw a note sitting on top of them.

'They were on the floor next to the sofa from where you had been marking them x'

I stared at it for a moment and only became angrier that now I had no reason to be angry. I jumped when I heard the bathroom door open and Tim saunter into the room, clean shaven and in the deep purple shirt. My heart started thrumming all over again.

He gave a cheeky grin when he saw me.

"Get ready, I'm taking you out for dinner."


	22. Chapter 22

He was growing impatient and confused in equal measure. He had expected a raging hot passion the moment we got home to accompany the palpable tension there had been across the dinner table. I'm fairly sure the waiting staff were blushing each time Tim did.

I loved how he had insisted that he would pay for dinner but subsequently quailed under the look that I gave him. He was vying for even the smallest morsel of control in the relationship. His fears of being womanly and feminine resurfacing and causing him to revere the inner turmoil it brought him.

I watched in a psychotic glee as he descended back to the Tim who had first wandered into my office, unsure and coy. He played with his hair and laughed hysterically when I told him the dullest, most inane jokes, smiling delicately and fluttering his eyelashes in a pleased embarrassment when he saw me giving him the once over. He gave a jump and a squeak when I had silently removed my shoe and moved my toes along his inner thigh beneath the table, moving further and further towards the crotch area.

I admired that he spent most of the night asking about my work. On occasion I had spied him flipping through the books I had at home, possibly to find any way to gain the upper hand and shock me with his new found knowledge. But I doubted Tim could barely even read some of the words let alone pronounce them to me. All the same, the thought was there.

Now he balanced himself against the bedroom doorway, waiting for me to move towards him swiftly and throw him to the bed and consume him, devour him and ruin him. But I didn't.

Instead I stepped calmly towards him with my arms outstretched. Even when he was confused he obeyed me and stepped into the embrace. My hand came up to card through his hair and I pulled gently on it to tilt his head to the side and expose his neck to me. I kissed it gently and he sighed, resting his head on my shoulder and breathing deeply.

I brought my hands down and held his hips, slowly pressing him to grind against me which he took to with a juvenile excitement. He panted and moaned excitably and looked at me with wide eyed pleasure.

"Mmmmmmm, yes, Ivo," he moaned, his eyes fluttering closed and his cheek brushing against mine in a soft nuzzle.

I guided him gently to lean against the wall in the bedroom and he giggled happily, already one hand at my jeans. I placed my hand over his at the zipper. Gently pulling his hand away and pressing it flat against the wall before doing the same to the other and stepping back from him after a heated, languid kiss. He already had that 'just been shagged' look of bliss to his features but I could detect the longing that was there, the burning need. The desperation.

His hands dropped from the wall and I swiftly moved to place them back on it, his eyebrows furrowing at me in annoyance.

"You will do as you are told," I warned him severely. "Now stay there."

He did but not willingly, his eyes watching me as I left the room and headed to the bathroom. I could imagine his confused features, the narrowed eyes as he tried to understand. He would let out a snort of disbelief as he listened to the sound of me brushing my teeth. But he would not dare move.

I re-entered the bedroom a few minutes later and he smiled sheepishly, hoping I wouldn't have known about his brief moment of lapse when he had scratched his nose before giving a cursory glance to my jeans and trying to piece everything together in his inebriated and puzzled mind. I gave him no reprieve and simply moved to lay on the bed, taking the book from the bedside cabinet and finding my place. I could feel his incredulous stare.

"Ivo?"

"Shush," I said shortly.

He moved towards me from the wall and I looked up at him.

"If you're not back at that wall in five seconds you will regret it."

He could see I wasn't playing and so resumed the position at the wall irritably.

"Just fuck me already," he demanded and I smirked.

"I'm not going to fuck you Tim. You're going to stand there all night."

"What? Why?"

His voice had moved up a third.

"Because I know you did it."

"No I didn't," he replied quickly.

"Did what," I asked, wanting to laugh at the silent opening and closing of his mouth. "Did what Tim? You didn't even know what I was referring to. Except you did, because you did it."

He surprised me by bowing his head.

"I didn't think you would be that annoyed. I didn't mean to make you angry," he said sullenly.

"I needed those papers Tim and you lied to me. Now stand there and be quiet."

I can barely describe how much it turned me on that he actually stood there, quietly accepting the idea that I had a right to punish him for his misdemeanors without any sort of human independence. Part of me loved that he had been shipped off to a boarding school so that my mind could perversely play around with the idea of caning him. The proper teacher and student fantasy.

There was silence except for the sound of my page turning and I could practically feel his resentment building.

"Ivo," he said irritably nearing an hour later. I ignored him and he huffed loudly in an exhale of breathe.

"Ivo, I need to pee," he said crudely and I looked at him.

"Be quick."

I wondered if he had taken up with the notion that if he obeyed he would be rewarded later. The moment he came back from the bathroom he resumed standing at the wall without question, only now with a slight look of defiance. Like he had convinced himself he had made the game up simply so he could play it like he was winning.

I had underestimated him. That became clear when he began to writhe against the wall, tilting his head back and looking at me from under his eyelashes. His chest moved up and down rhythmically and admittedly I was transfixed. He kept his hands to the wall and pressed the rest of his body up against it, moaning wantonly. He knew that I would cave eventually, he was testing me.

I stood from the bed and marched over to him, stopping just in front of him and observing him. He gave a slight grin, believing he had won. I unzipped his jeans and let them pool around his ankles, shoving his hands off me when they touched and caressed me. I placed them back against the cool, flat surface of the wall and Tim whined. He gasped loudly when I gently took him in my hand and touched him, his hips moving towards me. I felt him growing hard and he grinned at me like the devil.

I waited for the moment when I knew he could barely stand it any longer, until I could barely stand it. Then I left to retrieve me jacket from the hall, sliding my arms into it when I came back into the bedroom.

"If you move, I'll know," I hissed into his ear, so close to him. Invading his thoughts and owning his body. I'd never seen quite that look of confused horror on his face before as he realised that not only had he lost the game but also that he would soon lose his mind.

"No, Ivo," he whispered in a panic. "No, you can't! Please, I'm sorry, I didn't mean it," he babbled but I only shushed him and pressed a gentle kiss to his parted lips and gave one last squeeze to his crotch. He whimpered pathetically as I left the room, taking my keys and heading straight out the door to the flat. He didn't have to know that I simply sat outside in my car, trying not to think about him shaking and quivering upstairs. I failed miserably.

* * *

I thought I had been shocked when he had obeyed me but this had reached a whole new level. I hadn't intended to fall asleep in the car. But sure enough I had woken up when it was light, rushing inside to let Tim know that I hadn't allowed his fears to come true and abandoned him.

I threw open the bedroom door and saw the unmade bed, my heart jolting in panic. I thought he had packed his things and left but a glance to my right proved me wrong. He lay, snoring softly, in a crumpled heap at the base of the wall, his jeans still tangled around his ankles and head snuggled into his arms.

He had whimpered softly when I woke him, stiff and sore from sleeping on the floor and I felt so guilty for tormenting him so cruelly.

"I'm sorry," he babbled over and over as I removed the sultry purple shirt and guided him under the bed covers so that he could sleep somewhere comfortable. He continued to apologise even when I had tried to reassure him. I hated myself for being such a sick individual, preying on this young boy to fulfill my need for control and power. I held him close to me and kissed him obsessively, trying to convey that he had done nothing wrong. I stroked his hair and whispered to him how much he meant to me. He was half asleep and his breathing had slowed as I kissed his cheek.

"You mean everything to me Tim. I'm so sorry."

He gave a soft acknowledgment. Too sleepy to properly formulate a response.

"I love you Tim," I murmured, my lips pressed to his cheek.

"Love you James," he smiled and snuggled into me.

James? Oh God. I wanted to be sick.


	23. Chapter 23

"Ivo, my dear boy. You look frightful."

The sight of him in my office at this time of the evening was nothing new, he had adopted it as his own as his habitual thinking ground. It seemed that I had intruded on one of the many times when he was buried deep in his own mind, cogs whirring and thoughts spinning like a ferocious storm.

He gave a dry acknowledgement of my presence and continued to vacantly stare at the wall, a cigarette clasped between his index and middle fingers.

"What is the matter," I asked soothingly and took the seat at the other side of the desk, the one my students always shuffled their feet in while I delivered the necessary criticism. He gave me a look. One that told me what I needed to know.

"Ah," I nodded briefly. "And how is young Mr Cornish."

I was loathe to ask. Each time he would regale me with the tales of their turbulent relationship I found myself at a strange level of unease. I disliked the harsh resonance that Ivo spoke with and I found myself jumping to defend the young boy from Ivo's sharp tongue. Something that was unappreciated by the speaker.

I anticipated Ivo was ready to launch into the latest account of Tim's stupidity, selfishness, neediness and so many other themes to the same likeness. I could very nearly predict the monthly schedule of Tim's misgivings and the pompous way in which Ivo would inform me that he was saving the boy, reforming him.

I hated to admit that the boy whom I had favoured all that time ago was very different to the one I now knew. I believed that I had had some influence on his bravado, his confidence and his prevalent charms. I thought I had mentored him, but Ivo had bested me and I disliked it. I had attempted on many occasions to ignite some sort of fire in that boy and he resisted for so long before finally, finally he emerged from the ashes.

I believed that now Ivo was slowly being consumed by the flames each time he reached out to control it. I did not want to confess to myself that there was undeniable jealousy for the way Tim seemed to gravitate towards Ivo. He was drifting before he met him and now was like a moth to a flame.

I recalled one evening in particular when he had sat in my office, trying to find an idea for his next assignment and coming up with nothing. He had talked aloud, sometimes with a hint of animation at any part of the writing that may involve something romantic. I was captivated by the delicate grace with which he expressed himself. His eyes even closed softly at moments when he was particularly swathed in his own dreaming.

He was an astonishingly beautiful young man. Handsome only because it was evident that he did not believe it. I had feigned tiredness in order to continue the meeting the next day for fear that I would blurt out something inappropriate and regrettable.

I awaited Ivo's speech patiently. But there wasn't one. Instead he he broke down into tears causing me a moment of alarm. I had never been witness to anything other than Ivo's cold expressions of friendship and excited curiosity about his work. After a few seconds of his anguish he quickly pulled himself together enough to speak.

"I've been such an idiot," he moaned. I didn't even have to question him before he continued. Rare.

"I'm supposed to protect him and instead I keep hurting him like they did," he looked up at me, looking to all the world like a man gone mad.

"That's the only reason he's with me Martin. Because he'll keep coming back to the one's who hurt him. I was so stupid not to see it," he whispered to himself, wide eyed. "At the restaurant," he said coldly. "He wasn't upset to see him again, he was upset he had a wife. I thought it was because he felt used and unloved but it wasn't that at all."

He barked out a harsh laugh at me and I stood there, transfixed by this new version of Ivo. One that seemed to have stepped from the pages of a book. Maybe one written by Mr Cornish. This was suitably dramatic.

"So what do I do Martin," he asked sadistically. "Hurt him to keep him? If I don't he'll go searching for someone who will."

He took a long drag on the cigarette and then gave a slight smile.

"Last night," he paused. "I punished him for having annoyed me. He just accepted it," he shrugged and tapped ash into the little ceramic tray.

I wanted to leave and not listen to this.

"I liked it," he hissed with venom. "I actually liked it like some sick bastard, the fact that he stayed there. He was obeying me and I couldn't get enough of it." His breathing began to quicken. "I tell him what to do and he does it, desperate to please." His eyes began to water again.

"When he was half conscious he thought I was him and then I realised what I was doing." He looked down at the table and shook his head.

"Who," I found myself asking without wanting to know the answer. I hadn't expected an answer, I thought he would have refused to taint the relationship between student and teacher but then again, I supposed he was trusting me with this. I wished he wouldn't.

"He was abused as a child," he replied. His head tilting at me in curiosity to see my reaction. "Except he doesn't think he was," he laughed. "In school, some of the older boys abused him, raped him. He made himself think it was what he wanted. There was one in particular. He's married now," he shrugged. "We ran into him and his wife when we were out to dinner and I punched him."

He took another drag of the cigarette, examining it between his fingers and resting forwards with his hand to his head.

"And now he's with me. And I shout at him and tell him what to do. Convince him that I'm what he wants and needs. I tell him that he doesn't know what he wants and that I can help him understand when all I do is confuse him more. They were all perverted little shits for what they did to him and here I am doing the same."

There was a long silence before he blurted out in a short laugh.

"I even raped him Martin. Never told you that, did I? When he wanted to leave me, on that cruise," he hissed angrily. "He asked if we could cool off for a bit, keep out hands off each other and I didn't want to. So I forced him to. He even apologised to me for it, saying that he shouldn't have avoided me." He shook his head sadly. "So what words of wisdom do you have for me Martin?"

I simply stared at him, dumbfounded and unable to tear my eyes from his steely gaze. I thought of the sweet little boy who usually sat where I sat now, always with a delicate smile for me and a thank you for my help. Sometimes an apology for shoddy work and often a cheeky grin.

"Cat got your tongue," he asked suddenly and I frowned trying to carefully choose my words to not show the horrors I wanted to inflict upon him.

"It's quite a bit to take in Ivo. You've just told me something tragic about a young boy I care deeply for. Please excuse me for not viewing your instability as my first priority."

I stood from the chair and went to the door.

"Goodnight Ivo."

Even as I left, his words followed me.


	24. Chapter 24

The drive home from the University was awful. A number of times I had to pull over because my watery and bloodshot eyes were blurring my vision. I felt sick when I remembered what I had just done, what I had just confessed to Martin. He would try and make Tim leave me, I knew he would.

Even though Tim complained about Martin's interfering it was obvious that he respected him and Martin had a way with words to weave the idea into Tim's vulnerable and pliable mind. He would manipulate him into believing that he shouldn't love me and that he had so many other choices.

I was beyond terrified that Martin would use his soothing manner and kind words to convince Tim that he needed to tell the police what I had done to him, he would make me his enemy and Tim would buy it all, as though he were acting out one of the romantic thriller novels he loves to read.

I realised as I rounded the corner onto the street that I had simply stated to Martin that I had raped Tim but it wasn't like that and he would never understand.

My heart was racing and my stomach twisted as I forced the key into the lock, becoming infuriated when it resisted before finally it relented and opened, revealing a beaming Tim on the other side. I started.

"I heard your car," he said happily, wrapping himself around me and thrusting his tongue into my mouth, clambering for my attention and I pulled him towards me. I was desperate for him to understand and I paused for a moment when I tasted chocolate in his mouth. I pushed him gently backwards and kicked the door closed behind me, steering him towards the bedroom, my lips gently on his.

I pulled his pyjama top from him and slid his jogging bottoms off delicately before undressing myself, my heart twanging as I watched him lay back wantonly on the bed, his hand trailing across his chest and his eyes watching me.

He seemed pleasantly surprised when I pulled him on top of me and stretched back across the mattress, stroking his thighs softly and gazing up at him. I wanted him to be completely in control and I could see that he was a little confused. He was so pale and ethereal and I licked my lips at the sight of him slowly preparing himself for the anticipated rough sex that he was unaware was not going to happen.

He stared down at me when I had slowed him, pulling on his forearm to get him to lay on top of me. I wanted him close to me and he rested his head in the crook of my shoulder, gasping when I kissed and licked his outer ear as I made love to him.

I brought my hand up to hold at his hair but stopped myself, gently stroking the back of his neck instead and allowing him to move freely. I cupped his cheek in my hand and kissed him with reserve. He didn't understand and tried to kiss me back passionately which I reciprocated. I responded to him but never escalated until he did.

I had always loved the uncontrollable screams that Tim usually made in the bedroom when I showed him no mercy but this was different. He gave long, shuddering breaths and would whimper incoherently, a soft smile tracing his lips.

"Tim," I whispered and he brought his fingers up to touch my lips. I took his index finger in my mouth and watched reverently as his mouth fell open. There was a light blush across his cheeks and he wrapped himself more tightly around me, the movement causing me to cry out in ecstasy.

I offered him a cigarette after and he smiled hazily at me, bemused.

"Is this my reward," he laughed cheekily. I paled.

"Tim," I started, pulling him closer towards me in our embrace.

"I'm so sorry. It was wrong of me to think that I should punish you or reward you, I don't want you to think that, okay? I just want you to be you," I whimpered, unable to stop a few tears falling as I hugged him close. He fidgeted, trying to turn to look at me and I released him.

His hand came up to rest on my cheek and he gave me a look that seemed like pity but it wasn't.

"I won't tell you what to do anymore, yeah? I just got caught up in it all and I don't mean to try and change you," I spoke quickly. "I know it's wrong of me to try and control you. I guess it just scares me that you could run off at any moment, I'm trying to hold on to you and I'm suffocating you," I thought aloud and then quietened.

"Fuck, I didn't mean to say that," I gushed, I was horrified by the mental image of my hands wrapped around his beautiful neck. It was no wonder he had nightmares when he slept next to me. He put a finger to my lips to hush me.

"It's okay," he tried to soothe me. "I like that you try to control me sometimes," he admitted quietly. "I've never had anyone care that much before, someone who wants to protect me." He smiled weakly.

"I kind of like belonging to someone," he said cheekily with a slight laugh. "It's all in the past Ivo," he said quietly. "You nearly killed me and I nearly killed you. It's only fair," he smiled. "We can't live with or without each other it seems. If it has to be one of them then I choose the latter."

He snuggled closer and pull the duvet around us more.

"You probably think you've been teaching me to obey you," he laughed knowingly. "That's probably the only thing you haven't taught me."

I couldn't help but marvel at his wisdom and feel a little fearful. He leaned across to kiss my chest.

"Anyway," he whispered. "It's only fair that you try to control me," he kissed me again and slowly became more heated.

"It is," I asked, my mind becoming clouded with lust once again.

"Yeah," he replied, sultry and sensual. "Because I can think of something specific of yours that I control," he smiled.

"My heart," I suggested softly and he grinned wider.

"No," he kissed further and further down my chest, licking at me gently before slipping a hand beneath the covers.

Oh.


	25. Chapter 25

I slid the arm of the record player around onto the vinyl and breathed in the sound of the music as it crackled into life. The sound of it to me was like a silky gold. It made me think back to sitting on the rough, scratchy carpet of the front room with the sound of the waves lapping at the shore beyond the window.

As I listened to the gentle melody of the music it gave me that familiar feeling of dry ache. All I ever associated it with was a constant loneliness. The sound of a home that was a house and a family that were only by name and not by nature.

I had often wondered if I would have wanted siblings but I knew that I would only ever have wanted an elder one. Someone who would have looked out for me and protected me. I don't believe I'm much of a protector in life.

The doorbell startled me from my reminiscing and I was tempted to ignore it but I got up anyway. I pulled open the door and jumped, my heart in my throat. Isabel.

"Tim," she said softly, with a hint of urgency.

I stood in the doorway, unsure of what to do.

"Can I come in?"

Standing to one side she shuffled past me and stood in the hallway, taking in the surroundings. I noticed that her eyes fell on the photographs I had put up of Ivo and I in my attempt to make everything more homely. In all honesty I adored seeing the photos each time I came home.

She made her way into the living room and I inwardly cringed, noticing the conspicuous trail of clothing that led to the sofa from this mornings activities.

"I was visiting a friend. I thought I should call in before I head to the airport," she said, vacantly looking around the living room.

"Ivo's not in," I told her quietly. "He should be home after five."

She stared at me blankly.

"Hmm," she hummed a quiet acknowledgment. "I came to see you, Tim."

"Oh," I replied nervously.

I watched her debate with herself for a number of minutes, silently remarking on how similar her and Ivo were in their mannerisms.

"I have to ask," she started with a look of anguish. "How can you just pretend that nothing ever happened between us?"

I felt light headed. What could I say to her? She watched me for an answer.

"What else can I do?"

She stared.

"I just don't understand how you can tell me that you love me and then now..."

She trailed off and turned to look at the record player that had suddenly stopped playing, leaving a painful silence.

She seemed just as surprised as I felt when I crossed the room and pulled her into a tight embrace.

"I'm sorry," I whispered. "I never meant to hurt anyone," I told her earnestly and she pulled back to look at me, her eyes wide and her lips parted.

"I love him, Isabel and I'm so sorry that I've hurt you. I don't know how to fix it," I whispered, the pain of it all still so fresh and real in my mind. She pulled from me and I drew back, turning from her for fear that she would look at me with hatred in her eyes.

I didn't know whether to go after her as she left the flat, letting the door snap closed behind her.


	26. Chapter 26

I waited in the doorway of the living room, watching through the small crack in the door of the bathroom as Tim fixed his hair by his reflection. He had put on a dark green long sleeved shirt and his usual pair of faded jeans that day and was now probably debating pyjamas. I presumed he would be barefoot, enjoying the feeling of the cold tiles on the soft pads of his toes.

I wanted to wait for the point after he had brushed his teeth, after he had fixed his hair to perceived perfection. I needed him to be so external from his mind that when he felt my presence, it would be all that he could feel.

I could smell the perfumed fragrances that came from the bathroom and the deep musk of his body spray sent my head spinning. Each time I had that smell in my nostrils I usually had Tim skin to skin with me. I needed this.

It's difficult to think back to a time when Tim didn't exist in my life. Everything at this moment in time, in the past and in the future was now compared to having him or not having him. Of course it isn't hard to remember the time he wasn't around. I can remember it clearly.

Some people compare loneliness to being cold and love as warmth but for me it was different. I was warm and contented in my life and my routines but Tim was like iced water in my veins. From the first night in the hotel when I had placed my hand over his, every moment since was filled with the hope that he would clasp his hand around my own. I wanted our fingers, our bodies, our minds and our souls to be intertwined.

I want him to want me as much as I want him but if I can't have that I'll settle for anything. For the most part Tim is quiet on the matter but when it arises, it confuses me. He seems to think that he is ordinary, nothing special and nothing worth fighting for.

I startle him when he feels me behind him, his eyes catching mine in the mirror and a look of...terror? It's fear of some kind, leaning closer to excitement. It's taken a while but Tim has finally come to realise that when I lick along the outer shell of his ear like what I'm doing now, he doesn't need to fear.

I move my arm around the smooth fabric of his shirt so that he is held close to my chest. His eyelids flutter closed and his knees bend slightly, bringing him closer to me, his hand reaching up to lightly touch my cheek. I know he means to keep it there but he is too wrapped up in the moment to concentrate. Poor thing.

I smooth my other hand across his chest and bring it further down, pushing past the waistband of his jeans and sliding my hand over his boxer shorts. A pair that I had bought him as an impromptu gift with the idea that I could buy him sexy underwear and he would want to show off for me. I hadn't been disappointed so far. He gives a soft sigh that has a hint of my name in there but not quite yet. It will.

I pull away suddenly and Tim pouts at me, the fear creeping back in to his mind but I kiss the nape of his neck in an attempt to reassure. His movements are fluid and graceful as I weave his hand into mine and pull him gently to the bedroom. His breathing becomes more audible and I can see him eyeing the bed as I press up against him and take his lips in mine.

He squirms a little, short of breath and slightly in pain from the strong grip I have on his waist but I don't let go. Instead I give him a look and he quietens immediately. He makes for a fascinating study.

"Ivo," he says irritably and I try not to laugh. I wonder if perhaps I should let him have some control, just to take the edge of for him. I wonder if the role reversal turns him on as much as the normal submissive role he takes on.

"What," I ask him gently as I massage the knots in his shoulders, my hands moving along his back as I look at him.

He smiles gently, a little surprised.

"Suck my cock," he demands crudely, raising his chin in the air slightly with an air of confidence. His resolve fades however as he watches me slowly move to my knees and look up at him through my eyelashes. He hadn't been expecting it. I just knew that now he was going to test the boundaries and see how far he could go. I would humour him, for now at least.

The jeans and boxer shorts are quickly removed and he looks quite comical in only his shirt. He chews on his lip as I take him in my mouth, working at him the way I know he likes. My stomach gives a jolt with each moan he gives and I don't know if I can take much more of it all. He looks at me quizzically and I don't quite understand until I notice him thrusting slightly into my mouth, waiting for me to object.

The look he gives me when he realises that I'm not objecting makes me want to do this more often. He looks positively blissful. It soon becomes apparent that he won't be able to stand it much longer, the shock and wonder of it all overwhelming him quickly. I pull away and he stumbles forward slightly. My hands reach out to steady him, placed either side of his hips.

I pull myself up and kiss him deeply, biting a little and sweeping my tongue over his upper lip like the way a boy at school used to show me. Tim definitely seems to like it.

Somehow we both managed to remove each article of clothing and make it to the bed and I lay him down onto the soft duvet, moving him so that he is directly in the centre. I love the way he looks up at me, entirely dependent on me and assured that I am going to give him pleasure that will make him half out of his mind.

Somewhere in one of the other rooms I heard my phone ringing and I laugh. As if I would leave now to answer it.

Tim reaches one hand up to caress my cheek and I am momentarily confused by how callused and rough they feel but I simply use my hand between his thighs to push his legs apart. He allows me to. I massage him slowly, preparing him gently. I know what his coming next but the poor boy beneath me has no idea of how I am going to ravage him.

I use my mouth and he practically yelps, muttering my name and wondering blindly what has changed things so much that now I was willingly using my tongue to pleasure him further, pushing further into him and feeling him arch beneath me. I could tell I was driving him mad, it was too much for him but I didn't stop until he was practically wrenching me away.

It isn't long until I am pressing into him, pushing his legs higher and further apart so that I can move deeper, my hand on the back of his knee where I know he is ticklish. He gives a strangled sob and his fingernails dig into the flesh of my upper arms, his breath hot and heavy on my neck. He moves up into me after a few minutes of adjusting, thought he hasn't fully. I grin.

Clearly for Tim that was the signal for me to start moving gently, to slowly bring us both to climax like every other night when I cuddle him and whisper things in his ear to ensure that everything is okay. Not tonight. Tonight I was taking it as a sign that I was free to ruin this boy in any fashion I see fit. To make sure that he could never even walk on the same street as a church again without blushing.

The sound of his violent screaming almost became white noise as I was blinded by pleasure but I forced myself to hear and feel it all, the beautiful cadence to it. Even when screaming like a whore he still sounds breathy and lyrical. It's more than he can take but I'm not going to stop. I invade his thoughts and his mouth, swirling my tongue with his and making myself light-headed. Each time he would try and open his eyes I would thrust in harder than before and I didn't even want to stop to find out if his were tears of pain or pleasure.

He claws at my back and it only spurs me on further. I know I will be bleeding later but I don't care. I've never heard Tim make sounds like that and I'm not going to stop now. At times he is silent, simply too exhausted and hoarse to make any sound but then a second later he shrieks in ecstasy and climaxes violently.

I'm relieved and join him, knowing that I would have practically exhausted myself if we had gone on for any longer. I pull out and he makes a half retching noise mixed with a wanton moan before clambering close to me. It seems like he is trying to crawl inside my chest and live there and I pull him onto my lap becoming fearful when he begins to choke out loud and broken sobs. He buries his face in my neck and I cradle him, terrified that I've hurt him. Already I can imagine an embarrassing trip to Accident and Emergency.

"Oh Christ Tim, are you okay," I whisper, rocking him gently. I watch as he wipes his eyes with his hands and snuggles further into me.

"I love you Ivo, I love you," he says desperately, his eyes wide and fearful. "I do, I love you."

I place a hand at the back of his head and one underneath his legs to pull him on top of me with the cover over us both to keep out the chill. I can see that he is embarrassed and sore and I untangle myself from him to retrieve a wash cloth from the bathroom to gently soothe him.

It takes a while for his harsh breathing to quieten and he is drooling on my arms slightly but he has never seemed more perfect. He is so beautiful. I stroke his hair and lean in to kiss his forehead before closing my eyes and going to sleep.


	27. Chapter 27

I had mused to myself one evening as I sat in the comfy sofa and read one of my most prized books, my freshly brewed coffee in a crisp, white cup on the small table beside the armrest. I had paused to consider a particularly promising point that I had not paid any heed to in all the other times I had read it and then it came from almost nowhere. It had crossed my mind, stray and errant; that perhaps we are fated to lead the same lives as our parents.

I then chided myself, realising that my brain was becoming ensnared by the free floating intelligentsia that is the social 'so called' sciences. Evidently Tim's childlike ways of romantiscising things was getting to me.

It was basic logic that we are the shared genetic material of two individuals as offspring that is designed to function best in the environment that the parent material had adapted to through the evolutionary process. Socially they are the ones who raise us, providing morals and guidelines and in a small way the first personality we have.

Of course then when we go out into the world as adults, despite our best efforts, we are smaller and more dilute versions of those before us. Humanity and the natural world has taken millions of years to reach a point where we are almost exactly like the first living things on the planet. That doesn't boast much for the human race.

As a strong advocate for the natural sciences I had become irritated that I had allowed such a notion to arise and stay in my thoughts. I had become more irritated that it seemed to interlace some proof into my everyday existence. Like God hiding behind your living room curtains.

The following evening I had stopped in my tracks in a habitual movement from bathroom to the kitchen and noticed Tim's dark figure sitting in the living room. There was the faint red glow of the cigarette he held in his fingertips and I was too mesmerised to scold him for it.

I am a man of solid existence and never do I create an intricate and useless poem from the everyday and ordinary. Yet there I stood, just to watch him and consider how ill fitting his description of his parents to me had been to describe the boy in front of me.

I had tried to find ways to tar him with the same brush that I had his parents. The stray and vacant carers that did not care. In my mind there was little that could be said to redeem them for emotionally abandoning a little boy and setting him on the road to ruin. I would care for him now even if it meant something as sick and wrong as to be a father figure in such a sexual relationship. He needed that in someone and if it could be me I would happily oblige. Each time I thought of why Tim was the way he was instead of the way he was, it changed me a little inside and it changed my behaviour towards him.

It surprised me that he had never once criticised me for treating his intelligence so harshly. Each time he took it in good humour with a cheeky smile and a kiss. I regretted that now. I had always placed him lower than me and never complimented him on the fact that he did possess intelligence that most did not. That I did not. I seemed to base most of my interaction with him on comparisons, both for him and myself.

It plagues my thoughts when I'm blinded by physical release in the bedroom whether or not I am comparable to my own sister. I suppose with Tim I may well have compared his emotional sensitivity with Isabel's and that was the only reason that I ever saw anything wrong with how in tune he was to me. A ridiculous notion given that I have grown up with one and have chosen the other, both of whom have hurt me.

I stood in the hall and watched my inner thoughts as a very Tim like revelation came over me. A moment that sprang to mind from my childhood when I chided Isabel as I always had for her trying to mother me. Perhaps inevitably I was fated to lead the same life as my sister, the creature in my life who had nurtured me and mothered me; who had been my parent. It was always going to be that way with Tim and Isabel. What my sister and I shared stained through to what Tim and I shared whether I wanted it to or not. He was bound to become attracted to us both when we shared the same qualities that he found attractive.

Finally I had an answer to the question that haunted the existence of my very core. I now understood why Tim was so taken with notions of the romantic. I allowed myself that moment to believe that probability and proximity had led to my own heartbreak. A scientific release for the concept of fate.

Perhaps he had turned out like his parents. For the most part he was engaging and loving of everything but he could be selfish and vacant of the people who surround him. That was his problem. All this time I had been living inside my own head, finding solutions the puzzle, to the problem of Tim. He was not the problem at all.

He had turned to look at me then and given me the most beautiful and entrancing smile. My cold exterior softened and I went to him. He was hypnotic.

I didn't tell him what I was thinking as we lay on the sofa in the darkened room together. Being so connected to him psychically I had to be detached mentally or he would invade every part of me; through no fault of his own. We had lain like philosophers, pondering the heavens and the earth. Only one of us emotionally intelligent enough to appreciate it and one who belittled it in his own jealousy.

"What are you thinking," he had whispered. He was so close to my ear that the chill of it was arousing.

I had thought about how I had grown to be like my own 'mother' to keep him. In the comparison between Isabel and I, Tim had chosen her so I had stolen him and become more like her, softer and more gentle with him. Now I cared for him in ways I hadn't before, the way my sister had to me.

I had considered the resolute fact that I felt no guilt whatsoever in that Isabel was lonely and pining and I woke up to the wonder that was Tim each morning. I had pondered how I justified it to myself, arguing that Tim had chosen me and trying to be satisfied by the 'lifetime of putting my sister first and wanting something for myself' mindframe.

I had thought on how Tim had been smarter all along, content to think on things that led to a contented, human happiness where I wanted to best everyone even if it meant misery.

I reflected on the instant I had first realised that I loved him, long before I told him. Maybe even before I met him. I I had been thinking of how I longed for him to know exactly how I felt about him but there was no possible way to tell him for fear that I would spook him like a delicate mare.

He hadn't brought out the best in me, he had put it there. A part of himself that he had to spare and was willing to share with me. I thought about telling him exactly what I was thinking.

But instead I had stroked his soft and delicate hand in my own, bringing it to my lips to kiss it gently.

"Nothing," I replied softly.


	28. Chapter 28

"So tell me my dear boy, how have you been," I asked him jovially. I felt that I was doing rather a splendid job of winding the conversation into the area that I had been wanting to delve into for around a month now.

Tim sat across from me in the chair Ivo had sat in all the weeks before when he had confessed to me his actions towards the young boy. I had been debating since whether it was my place to become involved.

He shrugged and gave a small smile, tilting his head down and looking up again through his eyelashes. I swear the boy knows he does it. I told myself that I should probably sit down and found myself already doing so. The room was awfully warm too.

"Tim, there is something I wanted to discuss with you if you are not adverse to it," I ventured, feeling comforted and disturbed by the innocent happiness on his face.

"Sure," he replied cheerily and I winced.

"I worry about the relationship you have with Ivo," I started. I then realised that I should have eased him in further, lulled him into the rapport that was needed for these sorts of conversations. He had flinched a little.

"Oh."

I couldn't decide if that had been phrased as a question or not. I continued regardless.

"He confessed to me that something happened on the cruise," I began slowly, in the hope that he would say or do something that would give me anything to work with.

He looked positively terrified now and seemed to be a little grey. His knuckles were clenched tight around the armrests of the chair.

"Tim," I almost gasped when I could see him visibly shake.

"Tell me what happened," I asked him. I tried to sound as soothing and calm as possible to coax information from him and I felt bad for manipulating him into telling me but I needed to.

He shook his head and brought a hand up to his lips to chew at his sleeve, large tears beginning to flow over his cheeks.

"I didn't mean to," he whispered and I frowned. Of course Ivo had found a way to convince the boy that it was all his fault. I cursed myself for not having gotten involved sooner.

"He hurt you," I ventured and Tim watched me, wide eyed. I felt quite queasy but I needed to know what had happened.

"He told me that he raped you Tim," I told him quietly and watched for his reaction. There was a silence then that stretched on for an age.

"He told you that?"

I nodded at him gently, keeping my features calm and open and moving from my chair to sit on the corner of the desk and look at him.

"Whatever you tell me Tim will not leave this room unless you want it to," I assured him and he seemed to visibly relax a little.

"You can tell me," I spoke gently and offered him a cigarette from the packet left on the table. He took one and smiled.


	29. Chapter 29

I'm not sure what it was that made me tell him everything. I think he knew exactly how to play me in the situation in order to find out what he wanted to know. I'd like to think it is because he genuinely cares.

I'd taken the cigarette and smiled in the knowledge that somewhere Ivo would be doing the same and both of us were trying to hide it from the other. He was constantly chiding me for having no will power to quit and I would smirk at him, thinking of the cigarette packet in his sock drawer.

Martin had insisted that I have some of the whiskey he kept in his office 'for times like these'. He said it would calm my nerves. Everyone always seemed to want to calm me.

It had taken close to an hour for me to tell him what had happened because I kept leaving parts out and having to double back on myself for it to make any sense at all. Admittedly I was drawn in by his over dramatic reactions to the smallest details. It felt nice having someone on my side as he sighed and gasped throughout my monologue.

Even as I spoke of Isabel, Martin never once gave me his trademark look of disappointment. He had been a close friend of Ivo's for years and suddenly it felt wrong to tell him about what I had done and what a stupid boy I had been. He never made me feel guilty and I suppose that's what made me feel worse.

I had stopped when it came to the part about about hurting Ivo and there had been an uncomfortable silence as Martin undoubtedly imagined the worst.

"It's alright Tim," he had soothed. I felt like I was in some sort of trance where my natural reaction was to do as I was told even if it would have been best not to. I told him about leaving Ivo on that god-forsaken Island and that's when I couldn't hold back any longer. Thinking about it dredged up all the emotions that I had tried to run from and I couldn't handle them all in one go.

Martin pulled me up from the chair into a hug and the shock of it made me stop crying. The only other person who ever hugged me was Ivo and when he did it was possessive and for the most part sexual. Hugging Martin was different. It was comforting and I relaxed into it, feeling unsteady on my feet from the alcohol.

After a few moments he released me with an uncomfortable cough and I backed away, afraid I had done something wrong. After that it all became very rushed as he called me a taxi and handed me more money than was necessary with the assurance that we would talk again the next day.

When I had reached home I went straight to bed, barely acknowledging Ivo in the front room. He would probably smell the cigarette smoke and whiskey off me and I knew I would be told off for it but I pushed it from my mind and fell asleep.


	30. Chapter 30

The bed was warm and comfortable and I didn't want to move. I felt like I might be sick if I tried and it took a minute of trying to adjust to the light and understand what had happened.

Evidently the whiskey had gotten to me more than I thought it would. I probably should have refused it but Martin was very convincing. As well as the blinding light there was a horrible coppery taste in my mouth and my muscles ached.

It was only when I managed to steady my head enough to sit up and stretch did I notice Ivo watching me from the doorway and I jumped slightly.

"Hey," I smiled cheekily at him and felt myself chill with the look he gave me. He had his arms folded across his chest as he leant casually against the doorway.

"Where were you last night," he asked quietly. His tone was the one he rarely used with me to convey that games were not to be played.

I adjusted myself on the bed to face him and had to reach out a hand to the mattress to stop the room from spinning. I could only imagine what my hair must have looked like because I could feel the front of it sticking to my forehead.

"I was talking to Martin at Uni," I replied sullenly. I resented the slight quirk of his eyebrow at my tone as if he were surprised I had dared.

He gave a soft huff and left, going into the bathroom and turning the shower on. When he came back and told me to get a shower I probably should have been pleased that he was trying to look after me but I just found it irritating at the notion that he was deciding and doing everything for me. It felt like he didn't trust me to take care of myself despite the fact that I am a grown man.

"You could have called me you know," he told me through clenched teeth as soon as I had gotten out of the shower and thrown on some clothes. The taste of toothpaste was certainly nicer than whiskey and cigarette smoke.

I moved past him in the hallway, saying nothing, and headed to get a glass of water. I had hoped he would take the hint but he followed me.

"I don't really see how talking to Martin about work meant you getting wasted," he growled at me and I set the glass down angrily.

"Why are you making such a big deal of this," I demanded and I could see him psychologically restrain himself.

"Because you never told me where you were going or how long you would be," he replied haughtily and stepped closer to me.

"I was worried," he said quietly, busying himself with the cupboards and making tea while avoiding my gaze.

"Mmm," I replied slowly, unsure of what to say.

"I was," he insisted in annoyance, thinking the sound I had made was one of doubt. He stepped towards me and kissed me softly on the lips, his hands either side of my face in a light grasp of my jawline. Perhaps it was out of habit and association but I felt myself calm in his touch and I let me eyes close.

He reached up again and kissed me harder this time, his hands moving down my shoulders, along my arms and rested on my hips. Closing my eyes had made me lose perspective of my surroundings and my head just felt dizzier. I hadn't realised that I had swayed until Ivo reached out to steady me.

"You okay?" He muttered as he nipped at my bottom lip with his teeth.

"Hungover," I replied with a laugh and felt him smile a little. I always knew how to work him.

"You up for hangover sex," he whispered, his grip on my hips tightening.

"Mm, I think I should go back to bed for a bit."

"That's what I was suggesting."

"Not like that," I replied, pulling away.

Even after all this time I still felt a little fearful in denying Ivo something he wanted. He was a bit unpredictable and the look he gave me made it clear that he wasn't happy.

"Come on Tim," he smiled as he kissed along my jaw.

"No Ivo," I tried to say in a lighthearted way as I stepped around him but he held onto me. Evidently it was a bad sign that I didn't trust him owing to the panic that crept into my mind.

"Ivo stop it," I sighed as he stepped things up a notch and licked at my ear. Admittedly it did feel pretty good.

"You're just so sexy," he growled and it sent a thrill through me.

He always tried to be so gentle now and to be sure to check everything with me before proceeding but I could see the old Ivo creeping through as he went straight to unzipping my jeans from behind.

"Tim," he sighed as he moved a hand into my boxers.

There was no point in fighting him.


	31. Chapter 31

"What are you doing?"

Ivo was sitting at the dining table with a neat stack of papers in front of him and a calculator. There were two empty coffee cups already on the table and the crumbs of a biscuit.

He glanced up and had a soft smile playing on his lips.

"Sorting out bills and payments and things," he replied in that sort of soft, night time voice of his that I like.

"Oh," I replied, already horrified at the complication of it all. "Do you need any help?"

He gave a short laugh but I could tell it wasn't malicious.

"No sweetie, it's alright."

I sauntered over anyway and stood behind his chair, bringing my hands up to massage at the base of his neck. I really love the sound he makes when I do it. It's the same sound he makes when he reads something really interesting. I like to think he finds me as interesting as them.

It's not surprising that his neck and shoulders are tense but after a few minutes I can feel him relax. I had imagined he would have given up on the bills by now and suggested we move things to the bedroom but he stayed where he was.

I moved back down to his shoulders and rested my chin on top of his head, almost giving myself neck strain by having to crouch down. Kissing the top of his head I breathed in the smell of his shampoo. I never understood why he insisted on a different one from me. It had made me feel strange inside when I saw him once, just standing in the bathroom with the bottle of what I use. He just stood there and inhaled the scent of it. It felt like a good strange. Not that it turned me on or anything, just that it made me feel good.

He startled me when he reached up to put his hand over mine on his shoulder and he nuzzled his cheek into my touch like an over sized cat. I laughed at the image of Ivo with some whiskers and a fluffy tail.

"Tim," he started warily.

"Mmm," I replied.

"I really love you," he said slowly.

"I know," I smiled happily and crouched down again to kiss his hand on his shoulder. He turned slightly to look at me and I could tell he was upset.

"Ivo, I love you," I laughed at the expression on his face. He didn't seem sure of himself.

"So much," I finished, the impact of my own words hitting me like a realisation. I felt like in this moment there had never been anyone but Ivo in my world. It seemed foolish for anyone else to have been there instead of him.

He gave a watery smile and stood from the chair to hug me to him. It always made me smile that even though I was a good few inches taller he was always the hugger and I was the one being hugged. He is just dominant through and through. It's worse when he is sick. Then he's like a nightmare toddler.

"Is everything okay," I asked gently, moving my hand up to the back of his head and hugging him tighter.

"It's perfect," he mumbled into my jumper.

I smiled and pulled back but he held me there.

"Just five more minutes," he joked and I laughed.

We stood like that for a few minutes until he whispered my name again.

"Yeah," I asked him.

He hesitated for a long time and pulled away from our embrace before turning from me.

I could see him shake his head slightly and he looked up as if to curse the heavens.

"Ivo," I started, frightened by how serious he was being. "What's wrong?"

He looked at me, his eyes red and tears falling down his face. I automatically stepped towards him to console him but I didn't understand why he pushed me away.

"Ivo," I pleaded. "You're scaring me."

He gave a sigh and fixed his features into one of determination.

"I don't think we should see each other anymore, Tim."

My heart jolted and I felt myself sway a little on the spot.

"What?"

He looked at me right in the eyes.

"I think we need to break up."

"Why," I asked softly, the reality of things still far from hitting me.

Ivo stared at me for a moment, assessing my reaction. Was this some sort of a test?

"I'm not what you want Tim," he sighed as though life had defeated him.

"And how the fuck do you know," I shouted, anger coursing through me now. He blinked in what I think was shock.

"Why do you always think you know what I want to do, or say, or eat, or think or be," I demanded. "I'm telling you that I love you," I practically whined. "What more can I tell you Ivo for you to believe that you're the only one I want?"

"Martin said..."

"What Ivo?! What did Martin say?"

He huffed at me, his own anger building.

"He said I'm bad for you, that you only want me because you don't know any better," he yelled. "I control you and hurt you and that I use you for my ego. That I'm toxic for you," he moaned. "That I'm just like...them," he finished quietly, his eyes wide and fearful.

I could feel myself pale.

"Don't say that," I whispered.

"It's true Tim and you know that."

"No."

"Yes," he argued.

"SHUT UP!"

I screamed at him and only realised a second later that I had thrown the calculator against the far wall, leaving a mark on the wallpaper and a broken calculator on the floor. I stared at it, confused. I was shaking and my head was already pounding.

"I can't do this to you," he said suddenly through the silence. "I'm sorry Tim but it's over."

"No, Ivo you're being an idiot," I told him, going up to him and trying to hold onto him but he kept pushing me away.

"Ivo please," I begged, sounding desperate. "Stop it."

He ignored me and walked away form me towards the bedroom.

"What are you doing," I cried as he began to pull some clothes from his drawers. "IVO?!"

"I'll stay at the hotel," he replied calmly.

"How can you do this to me," I whispered, the feeling of nausea getting worse. I'm not sure I've ever seen Ivo looked at me like that before.

He ignored me and lifted the bag he had packed, going into the hallway and lifting his wallet. I moved past him and stood in front of the door.

"Don't do this to me," I asked him quietly and he deliberated. His hand reached up to my cheek and I felt a relief that he was going to listen to me but I was wrong. He didn't even have to force me aside. I accepted defeat and moved out of his way.

"We'll talk tomorrow, yeah?"

He had stopped to ask me, looking hopeful. I just nodded. Always submissive to him.

I gave a harsh laugh and his eyebrows furrowed at me.

"James was a coward too," I said sourly, twisting the knife in his side. The slam of the door twisted mine. Then I just sat down and cried.


	32. Chapter 32

"You're Tim, right?"

I looked up from the textbook I was struggling to understand and found one of the seniors looking at me excitedly.

"Yeah," I replied casually. I wondered why I hadn't seen this boy before. Perhaps he was a new student.

"I'm Charlie."

He held out his hand for me to shake and sat down at the table with me. Taking his hand I noticed a light scar along the back of it.

"Cool," I replied non-nonchalantly and and went back to the textbook. From my peripheral vision I saw him moisten his lips and sit up straighter.

"What are you studying?"

"Maths," I replied with a frown. He smiled.

"Confusing?"

"Very."

He inched closer in his chair and then leaned across to lift the book from me.

"I'm doing Maths so maybe I could tutor you," he flicked through the book and gave me a flirtatious glance. "It's always a lot easier when someone shows you how," he smirked.

He moved much closer to me and I was surprised how bold he was, owing to the librarian watching.

"Maybe we could go somewhere quieter and I could show you," he spoke quietly into my ear. I looked at him for a minute.

"I think I'd rather figure it out on my own," I replied, taking the book back and putting it in my bag before leaving the library.


	33. Chapter 33

I lay back into the sofa and held the cigarette to my lips again, my hands shaky and the back of my throat raw from sobbing. Each time I heard a creak on the stairs I thought it might be Ivo coming home and I would jump up to run to the door, but it wasn't.

I wondered if I should call someone but I couldn't think of anyone to call, no one would care. I hadn't seen any of my friends in months. Who do you call when the only person you can call is the one who left?

I considered going to the hotel and begging him to come back with me. I started planning what I would say. Perhaps I should apologise for being so vacant when we had sex, he was probably also frustrated at having to support us both financially. I knew he was mostly angry at what Martin had said but I was at a loss as to how to fix that. He would have to take me back, he couldn't not. What would I do with myself without him?

Everything seemed so dull without him around. When he had disappeared for a week to some conference about the University I felt lost and adrift. Everything around me seemed so disorganised. I hadn't realised that Ivo was the one who cleans up the mess I usually make and so I spent most of the day before he came back hurriedly throwing things back into place. I had been sexually frustrated for the entire week, my body having been trained and craving the usual sexual activity.

Thinking back now I realise that he had stocked the fridge and ensured that all outgoing payments were covered as well as leaving extra money for emergencies. He left notes on how to work the washing machine and a reminder to go the eye test that he had booked for me. Without Ivo in my life I would be hopeless and helpless. He cared about me and for me and I need him.

I had tried calling him but his phone was turned off. It was half two in the morning and I considered that he would be sleeping but it seemed unlikely. Maybe he would come to his senses in the morning and everything would be sorted. We would laugh and cry about it and then carry on as we had before after some really intense relationship discussions from Ivo.

I hope.


	34. Chapter 34

Everything about the situation seemed so surreal, purely because of how ordinary it was. The people around us sipped at their coffees and chatted to one another as they would any other day and there I sat more terrified than I had ever been in my life.

It had been a month since we had last seen each other and I didn't know how to behave. It seemed fitting that it should be lashing rain outside the window to match my mood.

I watched him anxiously as he ripped the top of the slender sugar packet and tipped it into the mug of black coffee. His hands were steady and his expression calm as he glanced up to find me watching him. I opened my mouth to speak but couldn't think of what to say and so closed it again. He smirked.

"How have you been," he asked me slowly, making each word clear and easy for me to understand. I still faltered.

"Umm, okay, I guess," I mumbled and he knitted his eyebrows together in frustration at me. He hates it when I mutter things.

"I miss you," I half whispered and he visibly flinched a little.

"I know," he replied coldly before taking a sip of his coffee.

"You never called me," I tried to say angrily but as always with Ivo I could only ever sound pleading and womanly.

Ivo glared at me then and I felt a shiver go down my spine.

"The thing I don't quite understand Tim," he started in a hushed tone. "Is exactly why you expect me to take you back."

He gave a sadistic smile at me then, taunting me.

"You see I was wrong to leave," he admitted carefully. "But at the same time, maybe it would be wrong to come back. I think you've made it quite clear Tim that you don't need me anymore."

"I already told you that nothing happened," I half cried, the stress of the moment making my throat dry and causing my voice to crack.

Ivo rested his hands under his chin and looked at me quizzically.

"Well it didn't look like that to me," he replied darkly. "See from where I was standing, it very much looked like you were sufficiently over me," he continued. "And you were quite definitely over someone else," he laughed harshly and I felt myself blush.

"It didn't mean anything," I mumbled and he once again gave me a dark look as he sipped his coffee. "I was lonely," I told him but he showed no sympathy.

"Don't you think it's a little odd that when you're lonely you go looking to please someone," he asked, seeming genuinely curious. He gazed at me for a minute, possibly expecting an answer but I had none so he moved on.

"It's always good to know that, what was it again? Oh yes, you don't love me," he said bitterly, "you never have and as soon as I am out of the picture you'll quite happily suck off some stranger from god knows where in our home."

"I do love you," I half shouted in anger and he closed his eyes.

"In our flat Tim," he hissed. We had drawn the attention of the tables around us. "In our bed," he laughed, clearly still shocked at the thought.

"I didn't sleep with him," I said hastily as if that would make the situation better.

"No, you didn't," he smirked at me. I wasn't sure what he meant by that but I chose to ignore his expression and he chose to change the subject.

"I take it you're staying at the coast," he asked before taking another drink of his now cold coffee, his eyes still surveying me.

I blinked at him.

"No, I sold the house months ago."

It was his turn to blink at me now.

"So where have you been staying?"

I shrugged and I could see his expression falter to one of concern.

"What does that mean," he demanded.

"I don't know, I'm just staying in a hostel," I replied quickly and he looked like I had just slapped him. He leaned back in his chair and ran his eyes over my figure before reaching across the table and grabbing my wrist.

I jumped in surprised and he held on tighter, pulling my sleeve up and wrapping his fingers around my wrist.

"You're thin," he spoke softly, a hint of a more tender Ivo on the horizon. I pulled my arm away and stared at the floor.

"Mmm," I half responded, not looking at him. I could hear him sigh after a few moments of tense silence.

"We're going to go and have some dinner," he told me gently. "And then we're going to get your things and you're going to come home, okay?"

I stared at him and he nodded at me to encourage me to stand. I felt like I could have been sick with elation as he took my hand in his and pulled me from the coffee shop to the car. I just stared at him the whole time, afraid that if I looked away he would vanish or it would turn out to be another one of my frequent and taunting dreams. But he was real and he was really here.

I burst into tears as he drove through the London traffic and he rested a hand on my knee while staring straight ahead through the windscreen.

"We'll figure it out," he nodded to himself.

"I've never loved anyone like I love you Ivo," I blurted out and I could see his grip on the wheel tighten a little. "I can't live without you," I stated simply. He let out a breath I didn't realise he had been holding.

"I know," he replied.


	35. Chapter 35

Ivo gazed sternly at the book he held at length in his hand as he slid his reading glasses onto the bridge of his nose. As soon as he did he had piqued my interest. There was something about the way he looked with them on that I found incredibly sexy.

He glanced up to find me looking at him and he gave an exasperated sigh.

"Seriously Tim, will I ever get a moments peace from you with these glasses," he groaned. I ignored him and gave him my most charming smile, a half lipped smirk. I could see that he was going to ignore me with the slight quirk of the eyebrow. He was going to be a tease.

To my surprise he set the book down and held both arms out to call me to him and so I crossed the room and climbed into his lap, kissing him passionately with my hands carding through his shorter hair. He had recently had it cut and I had yet to decide if I liked it.

His own hands reached up to grab at my wrists and my heart thrummed excitedly from being made so submissive. It's not that it is easier just to let Ivo take the lead, though it is, it's as though I like the unpredictability. With women I always had to think three steps ahead and make sure they were happy, this way I just forget about everything and it heightens the pleasure.

He pulled the glasses off and set them on the table and in the same movement stretched out so that I straddled his hips as he lay along the sofa, his hands tightly gripping my waist as I pulled my jumper off.

It was ruining the moment significantly when it became stuck on my shoulders and I struggled with it to the sound of Ivo's dark laughter, he was already making short work of my jeans. His breathing had quickened and I could feel him becoming aroused beneath me.

Once I was free of the jumper I leaned down to kiss him, in a rare position of control but it wasn't to last. He held onto me in a firm grip at the waist as he sat up, bringing his legs out from beneath me and standing. his hand outstretched to pull me up.

I found it very typical of him for the foreplay to be treated as an obstacle and not a starter. It was frustrating but I would persevere.

I shrieked in surprise when he bodily lifted me into a fireman's lift. He had done it once before and I had insisted not to do it again in case I hurt him but ice is ice and Ivo is Ivo and so he does what he pleases.

I was disorientated as he carried me to the bedroom and laid me down onto the bedspread, clambering onto the bed himself as he undid his belt. I stretched out my muscles as he removed his shirt and his jeans and shivered at his light touch when he placed his hand on my stomach.

"Ivo," I whispered, closing my eyes and trying to concentrate on sensation. Everything Ivo did felt amazing, I don't think it was because he was particularly good at it, just that it was him.

It felt so strange to know the difference between the soft and delicate touch of a woman and the intensity of a more masculine side. I definitely knew which I preferred.

His callused hands ran down each of my legs until he paused at my feet, a look of malice on his face.

"Ivo," I tensed up. "Don't even think about it," I warned, squirming away from him but he held my calf in one hand in a strong hold and brought his other hand up to start tickling me.

If the neighbours weren't already awake they would be now from my screams of laughter. I tried desperately to pull away from him and in the struggle we both ended up on the floor. Ivo refused to relent until I was begging through tears for him to release me.

In one swift motion he clasped my jaw and kissed me deeply. I just melted into him and let his tongue invade my mouth. He seemed almost panicked as he kissed my neck and my ear and I could feel him shivering.

Dragging me up from the floor he pulled me under the covers and cuddled me from behind, something so at odds with the sensuality of the situation that it confused me.

"Are you alright," I asked him softly, stroking the arm he had wrapped around me. He didn't respond other than to pull me closer to him and begin sucking at my neck again. I can barely think straight when he does that and he knows it.

"Mmm Ivo," I grinned as I felt his hand move under the covers, stopping at the back of my leg and drawing circles on the skin.

It only took ten minutes later to reach the tell tale point of passionate screams and panting as we had sex, the sound of his voice in my ear as he whispered endearments that seemed so innocent and dirty at the same time.

"I love you," he half cried and I couldn't even form words to respond until I had come down from the euphoric high.

"I love you so much Ivo," I babbled over and over. Ivo didn't seem to mind, he looked delighted.

I snuggled close to him and he pulled the covers further over us both, one arm wrapped around me in a sort of cocoon and we lay there contented. I wouldn't have moved for an eternity but for Ivo pulling away from me to reach the beside cabinet. I wondered if I was being allowed a cheeky cigarette but it didn't seem likely.

I stretched back on the duvet languidly and sighed happily, my muscles relaxed and sore at the same time.

"Tim?"

"Mmm," I purred. "What?"

Sitting up I encountered a very serious looking Ivo with a small black box in hand. I looked at it and then at him, confused.

"What?" I asked again. He seemed to blush as he tilted open the lid to reveal a silver ring tucked inside. My heart gave a double thud.

"Ivo," I began warily.

"It's a promise ring," he said quietly, nervously, his eyes searching my features for a reaction.

"Will you wear it," he asked in a tone he very rarely uses.

I beamed at him.

"Yes, Ivo, yes," I half cried in excitement and kissed him. He pulled me into a tight embrace and laughed in relief. I drew back from him and he pulled the ring from the box, holding it out. I could tell he was letting me choose a hand for him to put it on.

I looked him straight in the eye and held out my left. He placed it on my ring finger with a look of bewilderment and I couldn't blame him.

"Tim Cornish," he sighed with a laugh and a shake of his head. "You will be my ruination."

I smirked at him.

"Oh just shut up and fuck me."


	36. Chapter 36

"Tim, open the damn door."

I stared at the tiles on the floor of the bathroom that I sat on as I leant back against the wall. I felt sick.

"Tim," Ivo called again as he hammered against the door.

I wondered to myself how we had gotten to this point. Had I expected Ivo to change? If I was being honest with myself I knew I hadn't. I'd just accepted that.

"Please," he said softly. He always knew how to manipulate me, he would start out severe and then switch to something softer. Maybe so that I would associate any lack of abuse as kindness. He made me feel like I had to earn his affection.

Had I expected that I would change? Ivo was right to call me lethal.

I played with the ring on my finger and ignored the tears that continued to roll down my cheeks. I knew I was tipsy, on the way to being drunk given a few more hours.

The light in the bathroom was blinding and I closed my eyes, wincing at the sting from where Ivo had hit me. I don't know what made me tell him. If only I'd been able to live with secrets and then Ivo and I would have gotten along perfectly but I can't.

"Tim I'm so sorry, please."

Slowly, I stood and unlocked the door which he immediately pushed open.

"Oh God, Tim. I'm so sorry," he sobbed as he pulled me into a hug. I just let him, unsure of where I stood with him.

"Why do you keep doing this to me," he demanded harshly, his hands either side of my face. I stared at the floor, silent.

"Will I never be enough for you?"

I said nothing.

"I can't keep forgiving you, you know," he snarled.

I pulled back from him but he held onto me tighter, I yelped when his thumb pressed into my bruised cheekbone and he released me like he had been given an electric shock.

"It was only a kiss," I muttered and he stared at me, dumbfounded.

"IVO," I shrieked when he crossed the small room and held me by the throat. I struggled against him as he pinned me to the wall, a look on his face that terrified me.

I panted heavily and kicked at him but he held onto me pushing me up until my feet were off the floor. I felt myself panicking and my head started to spin as he choked me.

"Ivo," I whispered hoarsely, "please."

He dropped me and I crumpled to the floor. I scrabbled away from him to the doorway and pulled myself up by the door frame.

I didn't even feel like myself as I headed straight to the bedroom and began opening random drawers and pulling out items of clothing. He hadn't followed me. I hastily threw things into my satchel and grabbed some money from Ivo's bedside cabinet.

I went to the hallway but he was stood in front of the door, looking like something haunting.

"Where will you go," he asked quietly.

I faltered.

"Ivo, get out of the way," I tried to say strongly but I sounded small and scared.

I stepped towards him and his eyebrow quirked at me. I tried to push past him to reach the door but he caught me around the middle and pulled me from it.

"Let me go," I cried but he held onto me.

"You're being an idiot, you can't go out like this Tim."

He sounded so calm now, so logical that I almost believed him.

"No."

"Look, you just need to get some rest okay and then you'll be alright in the morning," he soothed, staring me straight in the eye and stroking my hair.

"You hit me," I stated childishly and I could tell that Ivo was angry. He closed his eyes and exhaled loudly, as though I were trying his patience. I shoved past him again and pulled the latch on the door. I was confused when I felt Ivo pulling on my other arm, twisting me to face him. He kissed me with a startling severity and I squirmed in his embrace. Bringing my hand up I pushed him from me and he paused to look at me for a moment before launching himself at me.

We fought in the hallway, me scrabbing at him because I had no idea what else to do. He pushed me back against the wall and my head hit it with a sickening thud. My vision swam and my legs felt unsteady. I almost vomited when I felt him punch me in the stomach and I fell to the floor more out of shock than pain. I heard Ivo put the chain on the door before I felt him pulling me from the floor.

I collapsed against him and he scooped me into his arms. I closed my eyes and rested my head on his shoulder, disorientated.

"Ivo," I muttered.

"Shhh," he hushed me and I whimpered when his arm rested against my head as he maneuvered me onto the bed.

He left me alone in the dark room but I didn't sleep. I was too afraid.

Ivo had me where he wanted me. I had nowhere to go, no money of my own.

How could he love me when he did this?

You clearly don't love him or you wouldn't have gone looking to kiss someone else.

I wondered if Ivo was in the flat somewhere, I hadn't heard him leave. Chances were he was right outside the door, listening to see if I was asleep yet. Maybe he hoped I would forget the details of what had happened and he would have time to come up with some lie.

My mind tormented me the whole night until I eventually fell asleep in the early morning.


	37. Chapter 37

It had been quite some time from when I last looked like this.

I recalled the day when I had taunted one of the seniors at school, flirted outrageously with him, before skipping off and giving him nothing. They'd waited for me when I had gone to have a smoke and it was out of stubbornness and fear that I didn't go to see the nurse after.

They had tried to avoid leaving any visible marks but a swift kick to my jaw had led to some very obvious bruising that was hard to lie away. Not that it mattered, no one ever asked.

My reflection looked like something broken. I reached up to touch my cheek to check that it was definitely me I was staring at and I felt along the dark purple shading around my eye. I couldn't tell if my head was pounding from a hangover or whether it was because of how hard I hit my head.

I'd read somewhere that you shouldn't sleep after concussion but that was rather useless information now. I flinched when I heard Ivo's footsteps along the hall. Should I pretend to be asleep? It seemed like the best option, just to play it by ear and hope for the best.

I clambered back into the bed as quietly as possible and pulled the covers over myself, my heart thrumming like mad when he pushed open the door.

"Tim," he half whispered. "Are you awake?"

I went through all the theatrics of waking up, yawning and stretching. I gave him the most convincing smile I could and winced from stretching the muscles.

Ivo froze, breakfast tray in his arms.

"How are you feeling?"

He was being cautious, testing the water.

"Head hurts," I laughed and he gave a slight smile, he looked out of his depth.

"What's the occasion," I asked casually with a nod towards the tray.

"Nothing," he replied slowly. "Thought you would be feeling rough."

My heart continued to pound in my chest but I gave a nonchalant smile at him. He watched me warily. Could he tell?

"Tim," he started but stopped, his mouth opening and closing. His shoulders drooped and he sighed.

"Do you remember any of last night?"

Oh God.

"Emm," I laughed nervously. "Only vaguely," I replied, sounding very convincing. I'd told my fair share of lies to have an expertise in it.

Moving to set the tray beside me he pressed me further.

"Do you remember where you were and how you got home?"

It must have infuriated him that I took a while to reply.

"Yes, I got a taxi."

He nodded vacantly.

"Have you looked in the mirror?"

I missed a beat and he frowned slightly.

"No," I replied hastily, feigning a look of concern.

"Why, what's wrong," I asked him, getting up to look in the mirror beside the bed.

"Fuck," I gave a mock exclamation of shock. "Someone must have elbowed me at the club," I suggested, watching his reaction in the mirror. I was even beginning to convince myself. I would need to.

"Mmm."

He began to cut up the food he had made for breakfast on the plate. He had a strange habit of cutting my food for me. Perhaps he used to do it for Isabel.

Isabel. I'd forgotten about her recently. I wondered to myself if Ivo had ever hit her. It didn't seem likely but my mind still entertained the thought.

I was wary as I climbed back into the bed to sit next to him. He gave me a tentative smile and I smiled back at him before kissing him softly. He brought his hand up to hold my cheek and took control of the kiss, making it stronger and lingering.

"What's the plan for today," I asked cheerfully as he fed me eggs from the fork.

He pulled a piece of fluff from the blankets off the fork and scooped up some more egg for himself.

"We could go for lunch somewhere if you want, go to that bookstore you like."

Ivo moved closer to me then and kissed just below my jaw.

"Sounds good."

"Mmm," he hummed. His hand came up to stroke at my bruised cheekbone gently.

"Maybe we should get that looked at," he spoke softly.

"Yeah, maybe. I'm sure it's fine though," I said in a rush. "I think I'll get a shower, get cleaned up."

Ivo just nodded.

"Sure, okay."

He left then to go to his study and presumably mark some papers. I went to the bathroom, turned on the shower to mask the sound and then sat down to cry.


	38. Chapter 38

"Hello?"

"Hey, Is. It's me."

There was a brief pause.

"Ivo what's wrong?"

I sighed, unsure of where to begin.

"I hurt Tim," I said in a rush. It got caught it my throat halfway and made me choke.

"What do you mean," she asked severely.

Fiddling with the books on the desk I avoided the question for a moment until she pressed me.

"Ivo."

"I hit him," I blurted out. "He told me that he kissed someone and I punched him."

I chewed on my fingernails and waited for her response, knowing that I had only given her half of the story. I'd done much worse than that.

"I need you to tell me the whole story Ivo," she said softly. "Everything."

I'd missed my sister.

"He wanted to go out," I began. "To this club with his friends and I said it was fine."

I heard her give a quiet derisive laugh and I knew exactly what she meant by it.

"Not that he needed my permission," I said haughtily. She said nothing.

"He came home with lipstick all over him and I made a joke about it, he was so drunk and he just kept apologising. He told me that he'd met some girl at the club and they'd danced and kissed."

There were some crumbs on the table and I swiped them off with my sleeve.

"It didn't bother me until he started pushing it, saying how he forgot what it was like to kiss someone with lipstick and long hair. He wouldn't give over and he made me angry."

"So you hit him?"

"I...yeah."

"Then what happened?"

I felt a little sick at the thought of telling her. It was her or Martin though. The thought of Martin made me feel even sicker.

"He locked himself in the bathroom, I could hear him crying and throwing up," I told her dully. Remembering it all made me feel awful all over again.

"He wouldn't open the door for an hour," I complained, as if I had any right to.

"And he knows how worried I am about stuff like that, so when he did open the door he just pissed me off more and we had a fight."

"So Tim hit you?"

"Well...no, not really."

"Oh."

"He just sort of scrabbed at me to get me off him," I said slowly.

"Get you off him," she repeated. "What were you doing Ivo?"

I felt tears slowly sliding down my cheeks and stopping on my lips to leave a salty taste.

"I had him by the throat," I confessed. "He packed some of his things and tried to leave and I hit him in the stomach before putting him to bed and hoping he would forget it all."

I half laughed.

"He really is a marvelous liar Is, I guess we both know that. This morning he just pretended like nothing had happened."

"Oh God, Ivo. What have you done," she sighed.

I said nothing.

"What do I do?"

She gave me no answer except telling me to talk to him. That was the last thing I wanted to do. Maybe Tim wasn't pretending and didn't remember and in that case why should I bring it up only to upset him. If he was pretending then he clearly wanted to forget about it.

I felt worse now that I had told her. I could have just convinced myself that it was all part of some surreal nightmare.

In everything I do I seem to hurt Tim; whether I stay with him or if I leave him. When he had told me that we can't live with or without each other and he chooses to live with me, it was startlingly true.

Tim was in the front room, probably watching useless and unintelligent television programmes.

I would talk to him, it was only fair.


	39. Chapter 39

"I need to talk to you."

Tim looked up at me, the light from the television shining in his eyes. Every time I look at this boy, his beauty takes my breath away.

"Okay," he replied with a shrug, his features portraying the innocence that I often debated he had.

Moving around the table beside the sofa, I lifted his feet from the end of the sofa and sat down beside him.

"You didn't get elbowed when you were out at the club," I told him. "I did it, you came home and told me you had kissed someone and I hit you," I went on slowly, trying to gauge his reaction.

Tim avoided my gaze and pulled his feet from my lap, drawing his knees up to his chin. He looked so small and vulnerable and I could feel my insides twist horribly.

"I can't stand that I've betrayed your trust and lied to you, I should have told you straight away. I shouldn't have done it."

A car drove by outside and cast a light through the darkness of the living room, illuminating Tim's pale features for a brief moment. My heart was in my mouth as he half opened his mouth to reply.

"I thought you loved me," he whispered, his eyelids fluttering closed and tears began sliding down his cheeks.

Had I not been sitting down I think I may have collapsed.

It was entirely illogical that emotions and psychological events could cause actual and physical pain but nevertheless I certainly felt pain right at that moment.

"I do," I stammered. "So much, you have to know that," I responded, incredulous. He sat quietly for a few moments. I could see his mind evaluating things in the way he so often did when he was trying to make a story.

He looked up at me suddenly from beneath his lashes, something coy and out of context. It caught me off guard.

"It's okay, I forgive you," he said breathily, a smile playing across his lips.

"You do," I asked, confused by the situation.

"Of course," he smiled delicately at me. "I love you."

Reaching across the sofa then, he clambered into my lap and nuzzled into my neck, his hands stroking at the soft fabric of my jumper.

I smoothed my fingers through his soft and shiny hair, bewildered but grateful.

"You're the best thing that's ever happened to me Tim Cornish, you really are," I whispered in his ear as I squeezed him tighter to me.

He gave a soft sigh.

"You're the type of bad boy my mother warned me about," he laughed.

"Your mother warned you about boys," I asked a little sarcastically.

"It was a joke, Ivo," he replied, rolling his eyes from where I couldn't see.

We sat there for a while in a thoughtful silence.

"When you told me how you'd missed kissing women, I panicked," I confessed. "It's one of my worst fears; that you'll finally come to your sense and realise that I'm too old for you, or too dull, or that you are really straight and run away from me. I've had nightmares about it," I told him.

When he looked up at me, I gasped. I'd forgotten just how mesmerising his eyes are that close. The deep purple around his eye made me feel ill.

He frowned.

"But I don't miss it, that's what I was telling you."

"What do you mean?"

"I was saying how disgusting it is when you get covered in lipstick and your hand gets caught in their hair, it was weird because I forgot what it was like until then and I hated it because it wasn't you," he replied softly.

"She came up to me in the club and started dancing with me, after she kissed me I left and got a taxi."

My stomach dropped about six feet.

I tried to think back to that night, attempting to remember if he had been taunting me in the way I had first thought. Was he lying to me now to try and make himself sound better? He seemed genuinely upset.

"Oh my god, Tim," I cradled him in my arms and began to sob. "Fuck, I'm so sorry."

He placed his arms around my neck and hugged me.

"It's okay," he laughed. "Ivo, it's okay. Let's just forget about it," he smiled at me and gave me a soft kiss on the lips.

I nodded, determined that from that very second on I would create nothing but happiness in Tim's life. He moved from my lap to turn the TV off and removed his t-shirt and trousers, motioning for me to do the same.

Confused, I followed suit and he lay back down on the sofa with me, pulling the blanket strewn over the back of it over the two of us and lifting his book from the table. Opening it at the right chapter he handed it over to me and snuggled into my chest, expecting me to read to him as always.

I smoothed my hand over his skinny form and kissed the top of his head.

"The rainy night had ushered in a misty morning, half frost, half drizzle," I began. "and temporary brooks crossed our path, gurgling from the uplands. My feet were thoroughly wetted."

Tim brought his hand up to trace his fingers along my own hand that held the book. I paused for a moment.

"I love you Ivo," he said dreamily in a hushed voiced so as not to break the beauty of the moment. I went on.

"I was cross and low, exactly the humour suited for making the most of these disagreeable things."

"Mmm," he sighed and snuggled closer.

"We entered the farm-house by the kitchen way, to ascertain whether Mr. Heathcliff were really absent: because I put slight faith in his own affirmation."

I read until I felt him fall asleep beside me, his beautiful face relaxed and peaceful. I kissed him on the forehead and untangled myself from his sleepy grasp. Wrapping him up in the blanket I carried him to the bedroom and laid him down. He squirmed and fidgeted but I persevered until he was tucked into bed and snoring softly.

Crouching down beside him I kissed him gently.

"I love you so much my sweet prince."

I smoothed the hair back from his forehead before closing the door softly and heading to my office to get some work done. I needed time to think.


	40. Chapter 40

I'd come home from giving a lecture on fossil structures and stepped on a small pile of post by the door; a rare occurrence as one of Tim's favourite things is to collect the afternoon post the minute it falls through the letter box.

There was no sign of him when I checked in the kitchen and bathroom but I found a heaped mound of duvet on the bed which I presumed contained a sleeping Tim. I walked over to the side of the bed and slowly peeled back the wrappings to see him slumbering beneath them.

He had a sheen of perspiration on his face and his breathing was shallow and raspy.

"Tim?"

I rested the back of my hand against his forehead and it felt far too warm and clammy.

"Oh no, Tim," I tried again softly, gently trying to rouse him.

He gave a weary groan and tried to open his eyes but merely whimpered and closed them again.

Heading to the bathroom I dampened a cloth under the tap and wrung it out before taking up a seat next to Tim's side and smoothing the cloth over his forehead and neck. He gave a gasp from the temperature change but I knew it would do him good.

"Mmm," he whined and tried to pull away from me and my invasive touch.

"Shhh Tim, it's me, Ivo," I told him quietly, stroking his hand and trying to cool his temperature down. He pulled from me again and twisted his ankles in the bed sheets. His breathing became faster and he gave an audible sob.

"Just relax okay, you're sick. I'm just trying to bring your temperature down."

Eventually he quietened and contented himself to rest against me as I removed the t shirt he wore to bed.

When he had whined to me before I left that morning that he felt sick I should have believed him.

There wasn't much else to do but keep him in bed and try to give him as much water as possible. He was in the halfway zone between awake and asleep and he seemed so disorientated. He muttered about his mother and sobbed to me that he was sorry he wasn't more help.

"Shhhh," I hushed him gently, pulling the hair back from his forehead and pulling him up so that I could sit behind him and hold him against my chest enabling him to breath better. I dreaded to think how much worse it could get. As a grown man a common cold shouldn't floor Tim like it always does.

I am always telling him that he eats far too little and should spend more time outdoors but he is contented to be a fluffy house-cat even if this is the cost.

He jolted awake suddenly and cuddled close to me for reassurance. I tried to soothe him until he rested against me again, lost in his own mind. I would have to call the doctor for him but know doubt I would be told what I already knew to do.

There was nothing else for it than to mother him.


	41. Chapter 41

Tim was wrapped up in a blanket on my knee. I had relented and allowed him full control of the TV and was beginning to regret it. Even if I had wanted to watch something, it would have been interrupted every few minutes by Tim's coughing fits and snuffling.

He refused to stay in bed no matter how many times I put him back into it. He would look at me innocently as he stood in the kitchen telling me that he only got up to get some water, or to go to the bathroom, or something similar. He was the worst patient and I was losing mine.

After only three days he had lost far too much weight, out of the inability to eat combined with the inability to keep anything down. It felt like I had nothing heavier than a small child in my lap which was more than a little concerning.

The only thing I had managed to do was feed him some biscuits and to drink a few mouthfuls of soup when he was still too delirious to refuse. I remembered now the fiasco of trying to get him to breath through a ventilator to help ease the coughing when he had whined and fidgeted, pushing my hand away and moaning that he wanted to go home.

Seeing Tim like that should have made me more sympathetic but instead it just infuriated me and I practically held him down and told him it was for his own good. I'm glad he doesn't remember it.

Reaching my hand up I massaged the back of his neck and he surprised me by pulling away sharply.

"Oww," he said in surprise. "That hurts."

"Sorry," I murmured and kissed his cheek.

"Are you going to work tomorrow," he asked suddenly, knowing the answer already.

I sighed.

"Yes, Tim. I'm sorry but I have to. You know I can't miss it."

"Okay," he replied quietly.

He had been oddly complaint free about me leaving him alone all day. Cookery programmes and boredom were driving him to insanity but I had found lately that Tim never drew attention to any of his childish concerns anymore.

I nuzzled his neck and kissed it, smiling when he squirmed from being ticklish. I consider tickling him to lighten the mood but realised it would probably lead to another coughing fit and so I restrained myself.

"Love you," I whispered just below his ear before kissing him again.

"Love you too," he replied softly and rested his head on my shoulder.


	42. Chapter 42

"Bailey?"

"Here."

"Bates?"

"Here, Sir."

"Brown?"

"Here."

There was a momentary pause that was almost unnoticeable to those not waiting for it.

"Cornish?"

"Here," I smiled. He gave a brief smile back, merely a twitch of the lips but there none the less. The roll call continued as though no such moment had passed. The whole class must have noticed it. Mr Walker was known for being easily swayed by a cheeky smile and a willing attitude.

"So, boys, did everyone finish their essays, yes, good. Alright then I'll collect them from you now."

There was the noisy shuffling of papers and of the usually elusive stapler as we passed our papers to the front, most of them in an unreadable scrawl, scratched hastily into the paper only a matter of hours ago.

He set about giving us a rather menial task, simply to give him the class time to mark and ensure he was able to go home early. I thought it strange that the teachers at Leythe were the only ones with any sort of connection to the outside world. It was heavily frowned upon by the school but on occasion a teacher would take pity on some of us and drive us to the local chip shop at weekends.

The class went by relatively quickly as we sat reading. One of my favourite parts of class. There were no class bells at Leythe, you just somehow had to know where you had to be and when.

"Mr Cornish, a word please."

I liked Mr Walker from the first day he had taken over our class. He was young and quite handsome as well as being witty and kind.

"Yes Sir?"

I shifted my weight to one foot and fluttered my eyelashes in a well practiced manner.

"I've marked your essay," he said as he held it out to me across the desk. "Have a seat," he went on severely. My stomach jolted a little. I did as I was told and sat at the table nearest his desk. He surveyed me over his fingertips from his hands joined under his chin.

"You're a clever boy Tim," he smiled.

"Sir?"

"Your writing has a very natural flair to it. Have you ever considered studying English?"

I stared down at my shoes.

"No, not really. I haven't thought of it much."

"Hmm," he hummed to himself and shifted back in his chair.

"Well," he said cheerily. "Perhaps you will have a think about it."

"Yes Sir."

He gave a brief nod and furrowed his brows, deep in thought.

"Now to the real matter at hand," he gave a tentative smile.

I smiled at him in return and he gave a half grimace and closed his eyes for a moment.

"Tim, I need you to tell me what's going on."

I couldn't process his request fast enough and so there was a silence that dragged on for quite some time.

"Pardon?"

"I want to be able to help you Tim, and I can only do that if you tell me what is going on between you and the other boys. Is it bullying," he asked in a voice of genuine concern. I almost wanted to laugh out loud but I was too shocked for my body to allow that.

"I...no Sir," I replied.

"For a boy who doesn't play sports you have an awful lot of bruises," he said quietly.

I tried to swallow the horrible, aching lump that had formed in my throat and the room suddenly seemed a lot smaller than what it had a few minutes ago.

"That's...it's just from messy around," I replied with a grin. "It's nothing like that."

I saw his eyes dart to my neck around my shirt collar and I could feel my muscles tense up automatically.

"Messing around," he repeated, looking doubtful. "Some of the boys appear to be quite..protective of you, in a way," he mused. "Are they your friends," he probed.

"Yeah, I guess."

"Very well," he replied sadly.

"Anyway, I have something for you," he continued with a smile at me. He really was quite handsome. He searched through his desk drawer to find a small copy of 'The Red Pony'.

"There is a new book shop that's opened in the town, I go there on Wednesday afternoon's when I get the chance. I tend to buy so many books that carrying them to the car can be a bit of a nuisance so I was thinking of asking a pupil to come along with me. If you have the time I'd appreciate your help Tim. Your opinion would be a great help to me."

I stroked my thumb over the shiny new cover of the book and smiled, a sense of pride within me.

"Yeah, okay."

He nodded gently.

"You can read any of the books that I buy on the condition that you write me an essay on them, does that sound fair to you?"

"Yes Sir."

He stood to open the classroom door for me.

"Good, I expect your first essay by the end of the week," he gave a genuine smile with a nod towards the book in my hand. I laughed.

"Yes Sir," I said as I left.

"Oh and Tim?"

I paused in the doorway.

"What?"

"Good work."

I smiled at him, probably in a way that I hadn't smiled at anyone in quite some time.


	43. Chapter 43

"Ivo," Tim cried excitedly, the minute I had walked through the door and set my briefcase down. He practically skipped towards the doorway and threw himself at me to hug me, before kissing me with exuberant passion. I guided him to lean against the wall and I could feel him melt under me as we made out in the hall.

He had a ridiculous grin on his face when we broke apart and laughed to himself a little before stumbling towards the kitchen.

"I made dinner," he smiled, looking for praise that I usually didn't give him. He looked at me hopefully.

I gave him a sincere smile.

"It smells amazing, what is it?"

Walking to the cooker I peered into the various pots but he shooed me from it and told me it was a surprise.

"Mmmm, I see," I replied. I noticeably looked him up and down before licking my lips and he stared at me with his mouth open.

"Yeah, okay," he replied vacantly, momentarily confused. He managed to gather himself however and steered me to the tiny table we ate from before dishing out some sort of risotto. All of the cookery programmes had done him some good then.

I took a forkful of it into my mouth and gave an exclamation of surprise which I then tried to turn into one of ecstasy so he wouldn't think I had doubted him. It really was very good.

He gave a tiny smile to himself and began to eat his own, his socked foot under the table already caressing my leg.

"How was your day," he asked cheerfully.

"Long," I replied wearily, not wanting to dampen the good mood by complaining too much. "A few students are looking into their research projects and they're aiming quite high. They're hoping to go to Peru in the summer which means a lot of extra paperwork for me."

"Wow, Peru," he repeated. "How exotic."

"Archaeologically it's a fascinating place but I have my doubts about fossils."

"Yeah, probably just a bunch of llama bones about the place."

I looked up and laughed.

"Yeah, maybe. So what did you do with your day?"

He set his fork down and nervously put his hands in his lap.

"I was talking to a publisher today, I've been talking with her for a few months now and she wants to publish my work," he told me quietly, watching me for a reaction. It was my turn to stare at him now.

"Are you serious?"

Tim gave a small nod with a hint of a smile.

He shrieked in delight when I stood and pulled him from his chair before lifting him and spinning him in my arms. Setting him down I pulled him towards me and kissed him deeply, my fingers threaded through his hair and my arm around his waist.

"Ivo," he panted breathlessly. He laughed then and hugged me. There was no music but we waltzed around the kitchen for a few minutes and it felt like we were on air. I had such a feeling of pride within me. For the last few months I had been fearful of asking Tim about his work, it always seemed to make him edgy but it seems all that time he was working things out for himself.

I kissed him again, softer this time. He sighed and smiled. Slowly I moved my hand under his shirt over his stomach and he leaned into my touch. His hand came up to run along my own shirt before he removed it.

I kissed his neck, just below his ear.

"We're not having sex tonight," I whispered. "Just this, let me do this."

He looked incredulous, as though he didn't believe me.

I pulled him to the sofa in the living room, leaving our half eaten dinner. I made him lay down on top of me and we made out like teenagers. He wasn't used to so much attention and I could tell he was loving every minute of it. He seemed to be trying to take it all in, probably thinking that it would end soon and I would simply become bored and fuck him.

"Will you let me read what you have written, or is it too personal," I asked him. He sat back on my hips and I noticed a small amount of grinding. I was teasing him too much.

"If you like, I don't mind if you don't want to," he chewed at his lip.

"I do want to, Tim. But if you would prefer I didn't then it's your decision."

He smiled at me. He looked so captivating when he did and I wanted to look at him forever. I held his hand in mine and stroked my fingers over the promise ring he wore.

"Okay," he laughed. "You can read it."

"Good," I smiled. "But now, we have to get back to the very serious matter at hand."

"Oh," he smiled. "Which is?"

"Where do you want to go to celebrate?"

I'd caught him off guard.

"I don't know," he replied, blinking at me. "It hasn't been published yet," he reminded me as if that changed my mind.

"Mmmm, it'll have to be a surprise then won't it," I told him.

"Sure," he grinned as he leaned down to kiss me again.

I knew exactly where to take him.


	44. Chapter 44

He seemed so at peace here.

Usually when I looked at him, he seemed to be lost. Like he had simply opened his eyes and found himself wherever he was with no idea how he got there.

His eyes sparkled in the soft lighting and he had a vacant look, completely at odds with the rapt attention he was paying.

His hand had gone limp in mine, his mind far away from the place he now sat. It was mesmerising to see. His lips moved soundlessly with the words being sung towards us from the stage and with each peak of the music he moved closer and closer in his seat.

I am not a vain man but standing next to him I wonder often what the point of me is. Maybe I only exist to gaze upon him, but then again that is far to philosophical for my tastes.

He belonged in the stories that were played out on that stage, something ethereal and magical. He was far too beautiful to exist in this world. I had never had a need to own a camera but I had bought myself one purely so that I could preserve the existence of Tim should he suddenly vanish from my life.

Over the past few months Tim had domesticated me to the point that my flat now possessed comfy pillows, photo frames and other things that I had never considered owning before. My kitchen had a cupboard dedicated specifically to biscuits and I woke up each morning to little notes left on the kettle, toaster and fridge from Tim the night before.

He makes everything seem brighter and sweeter. I didn't even mind when he broke the washing machine and flooded the kitchen, or that he constantly steals my socks and jumpers. Seeing him now, like this, makes me see just how much I need him.

I leaned across and kissed him on the cheek, aware of the scandalised older women behind me but uncaring. He gave a smile and blushed, holding my hand tighter and moving closer to me.

"Thank you," he whispered as the aria drew to a finish.

I squeezed his hand in mine and pulled it to my lips to kiss it gently.

"You're welcome."


	45. Chapter 45

"Oh God, Ivo, oooh," Tim whimpered, moving above me. "It feels so good," he panted. I wondered to myself if the old women from the opera were staying on the floor above us and just what they would be thinking right now.

I held his hips steady against the wall and continued to drive him crazy. He looked so blissful while at the same time seeming like a burning furnace. He was still as skinny as when I had first met him which made me quite self conscious owing to how trim and young he looked in comparison to me. Looking up at his gorgeous physique I couldn't help but wish that I looked something similar to know for sure that he would want me.

"Mmmmm, yeah like that," he whispered, tugging on my hair to take control. It surprised me but I carried on. He isn't usually so bold. His fingers held my in an oddly strong grip and he moved faster than I would have liked.

I licked at him which caused him to jerk, tugging my hair roughly. I pulled away from him then and he looked at me, bewildered.

"What's wrong?"

"You were pulling my hair," I warned.

"So," he replied cheekily.

I frowned.

"So don't."

He seemed embarrassed then and nodded, waiting for me to continue.

"Hngh," he sighed as I went back to pleasuring him. "Yes, Ivo." His hips canted forward slightly until I moved him back. I brought my hand up and started preparing him but he pushed my hand away.

"Not yet," he whispered, his eyes closed as he rested back against the wall.

I stared up at him but he ignored me, squirming slightly and breathing deeply.

I allowed him a few more minutes until once again I tried to move his legs apart.

"Mm, do we have to," he asked irritably.

I pulled back and looked at him.

"No," I replied, hurt. "I thought you wanted to."

"I'm kind of tired," he replied. "Don't really have the strength."

I stood and watched his expression carefully.

"So what do you want to do," I asked lowly.

He looked away and avoided my stern gaze.

"I don't know," he told me quietly. "Just fool around for a bit?"

"Fool around?"

"No, it's fine, it doesn't matter," he said hastily. "Whatever you like," he said with startling enthusiasm. It was his fantastic acting skills that made him such a good liar, and what made me doubt myself.

He grabbed my hand then and guided it between his legs, moaning in a very convincing performance.

* * *

"Fuck Ivo," he groaned once I had pressed into him, holding him with his legs wrapped around my waist, his arms around my shoulders and his breath hot on my neck.

"Nggh, yes, yes," he whimpered pathetically. "God, yes."

The angle was perfect, more so psychologically than anything else. Tim clung to me desperately, afraid to let go should the pleasure stop. His fingers were creating friction burns across my shoulder blades as he dug them into me.

I kissed his neck and moved faster, enjoying the unmistakable and trademark silence that meant Tim was most certainly enjoying himself. Sure enough he gave a heavy gasp and a strangled sob, biting down on my shoulder.

I could barely think straight. Sometimes as a game, I would challenge myself to think about my work while we were in the throws of passion because I knew that once I had Tim near me anything human left me until all I had remaining was something raw and animalistic. I proved that when I felt myself growl.

Tim looked at me, wide eyed and fragile, his eyes shining in the low lighting of the familiar hotel room. It was just possible to hear the waves far in the distance.

"Ivo."

My stomach jolted. Tim had never said my name quite like that before. I felt him shaking through his climax and only realised I had too a few moments later when I could gather my thoughts.

I pulled out from him gently and set him down onto the soft bed, pushing his hair back from his forehead. He clung to me in a hug and kissed my chest with an entrancing delicacy.

I pulled us both back against the headboard and allowed him to nuzzle into my neck as I pulled the covers over us both to keep out the chill. He rested against me as his breathing calmed, his fingers lightly tracing across my stomach and a smile playing on his lips.

"I'll love you forever Ivo," he whispered.

He shuffled down the bed until he was resting with his head on my chest, ready to sleep. I smoothed his hair and tried to steady my shaky hands as I wiped away the few tears that had managed to leak out. I was glad he was facing the opposite direction.

I stayed awake as he fell asleep against me, his breathing heavy and occasionally he would start fidgeting.

I used the time to think on what Tim had written. I thought about how it had terrified me to realise how intelligent he was, not because I wanted to be smarter than him. Purely because it showed what he was capable of. I pondered what I would do when he left me for good. Which I knew was inevitable.

I was the king who had caged the beautiful lark to listen to it sing.

I thought back to the first time I had ever thought I loved someone and I could barely remember their name. I doubted this would be like that.

There would be no going back after Tim. I would pine for him always.

Perhaps that is how my sister feels now. Now that I have stolen the bird. She was a bird too, they would have been happy together.

I tormented myself until I fell asleep, holding Tim to me.


	46. Chapter 46

"Tim," I tried again, appealing to the curled up form that lay on top of the duvet. There was no reply.

I sighed and clambered onto the larger than usual bed that we had just bought.

"Tim?"

I curled myself around him and held him close, hating the heartbreaking sound of his sobs as he tried to be quiet about his grief.

"Talk to me sweetie, let me help."

He only cried harder.

"He wasn't that old," he said softly, still in shock. "It's just not fair."

He gave a harsh laugh.

"I didn't even know him that well, it's just that he made such a difference to me in that horrible place and I owe him so much."

"It's okay to be upset," I hushed him and kissed his cheek, stroking his hair back from his face as I did. He picked at his lower lip with his fingers and took deep breaths.

"He was the one who persuaded me to become a writer," he smiled boyishly and I felt myself smile with him.

"Do you want me to come with you to the funeral," I asked.

"That's okay," he mumbled. "You probably have to work."

I let out an almost exasperated sigh.

"You come first, you always will."

He shuffled closer to me then and we lay there for what must have been an hour. Just thinking.


	47. Chapter 47

"Ivo."

Martin had looked up from his stack of papers and visibly swallowed.

"How have you been?"

I thought it oddly brazen of him to be so cheery, or rather, attempt to be. Perhaps it was to signify that whatever had gone on between us was in the past. But that wasn't his decision to make.

"Oh, you know, not so bad considering."

He stood then and eased his way to hover in front of his desk. Was he trying to seem bigger, like something in the undergrowth of the wild, stretching out it's form as a defense mechanism? He would have been safer behind the desk.

I leaned against the door frame and searched through my pockets for a cigarette. What Tim didn't know wouldn't hurt him.

"It's no smoking in here," Martin puffed out irritably and I smirked while I continued to light it.

"So," I said, taking a quick drag of the cigarette. "We have a lot to discuss, wouldn't you agree?"

Shuffling his feet on the carpet he perched himself on the very edge of the desk, ready to take flight if necessary.

"Oh? Do we?"

"Yes we do," I replied abruptly, putting an end to his raised eyebrow stare. "You're to stay away from Tim."

Martin blinked in rapid succession and gave a smirk.

"Oh am I now?"

I strolled towards him casually until we stood directly in front of each other.

"Yes."

There was no mistaking that Martin looked anxious, even fearful. His eyes traveled around my features as he tried to assess the viability of the threatening figure in front of him.

"You seem to be under the impression that I don't know what you are doing, what you have been trying to do all along," I said.

"What is it you so rudely suspect me of doing, exactly?"

"You love him," I sneered. "And you can't even deny that Martin, it's obvious. The thing I don't understand however is how you think you can win him over by trying to get him to leave me."

"I have never..."

"No? He was here last night, wasn't he?"

"Yes, he wished to include me in his celebration of his new book," Martin stood proudly. "but it is none of your business what Tim and I discuss."

"It starts to become my business when you try and get him drunk and twist things in his head," I growled. Martin went a very off shade of grey.

"How dare you!"

"How dare I? He trusted you Martin and you betrayed that, he doesn't understand what you are really like, he thinks your word is gold. Do you realise how damaging what you say can be?"

"Ivo, be reasonable," Martin scolded and I laughed.

I took a minute to breath.

"What did you say to him?"

Martin's eyes narrowed for a split second and then he smirked.

"You only wish to know because you're obsessed with everything about him, what you feel for him, Ivo, isn't normal. That boy deserves so much more, you have manipulated him into loving you!"

I had nothing to say to that and I just had to stand there as Martin went on.

"You think he hasn't told me about you? You think I have no idea what he is thinking or feeling but I have a better idea than you, Ivo," he gave a half laugh.

I wanted to say something that would put me in a position of power, that would give me some ground to stand on, but there was no logic to my thoughts. My silence was only spurring him on.

"He has confided in me how he really feels Ivo and I'm helping him to understand," he spoke gently, as though he were trying to explain to an idiot child.

"His writing reflects the things that you wouldn't understand, you are a scientist, not a writer."

"Oh and you're a psychiatrist, are you," I raised my voice. "Asking him about his father when he told you about our sex life, do you get some sort of sick pleasure in ruining our relationship?!"

Martin shook his head with a sad smile.

"I merely show him what his writing shows me. Have you ever even asked him about his past? It seems to me that you simply use him to warm your bed when it is convenient."

I could feel rage pulse through me.

"That is not true, you have no idea of what we have," I yelled, thinking of all the late night talks, tears and hugs that featured in my relationship with Tim. There had been so many times when we would simply say nothing but still know. As much as I had been a comforter to Tim he had been the same to me.

In the beginning, one of our biggest issues was communication but after everything that happened it had changed things. Now I felt I knew everything about the boy, the way he thought, where he had come from, what he had grown up in, even up to what he would be having for lunch the next day.

Did Tim tell Martin that? Did he think what Martin said was true? That all he was to me was something convenient?

Martin folded his arms and re-settled his weight, looking at me to go on.

"He is everything to me," I said simply. "And no matter what you say it will not change the fact that I love him, if it's obsession, then so be it. It also won't change the fact that you love him too, but I'm warning you Martin, if you make me fight for him I will win."

"There's no need to be so dramatic Ivo, I'm merely pointing out what is obvious. Perhaps I have no chance with Tim, but it doesn't mean you deserve yours."

* * *

The car felt far too hot now that the heater had been on full blast. As much as I relish the feel of cold arctic winds, I was not overly in the mood for them on an English country road at night after having just had an argument.

It had been tempting to call Tim from my mobile but I knew that would just mean it was longer until I saw him in person.

I'd stayed in the car as I had tried to calm myself before starting the snowy drive home.

The radio played out something classical that I knew was a favourite of Tim's. It never did quite make sense to me that he should love classical music, being so young and trendy, but then again, here I was wearing a leather jacket, opposites attract as they say.

It had reached the particularly beautiful violin solo and I imagined the soft feel of Tim with my arms held at his waist as we had dance to it in the living room, slow and sensual before he had slithered down like a vixen and sucked me off, entirely inappropriate for the music.

The comparison sprang to mind, of Tim being like that jolt of terror and fear that causes you to feel more alive purely because of the risk and what you stand to lose. It was certainly fitting to the black ice I had just hit and just slightly less than the windscreen shattering in as I collided with the barrier at the side of the road.

There was little to be said for the situation as I felt a trickle of blood slide down my cheek and a jolt of pain across my arm as I had flinched. There would most definitely be glass in it.

Having spent years as a paleontologist, I had simply reached one conclusion from this current predicament. It seemed an inconvenient and illogical part of the evolutionary process that just at a time when you only have yourself to depend on for your own survival, rather cruelly, you slip into unconsciousness.


	48. Chapter 48

The sandwich I had made myself was severely disappointing. I liked the way Ivo buttered the bread; he always managed to get the butter evenly across each piece without it tearing or clumping and then he would fold the ham in some sort of wave motion. When I tried to copy it it didn't taste the same.

I had a lot of work to do so that I would have the paperwork to give the publisher. The thought of it made me excited each time I thought of being seen as a proper writer. I hadn't done very much before deciding to take a lunch break but I promised myself that once I sat back down I would get it finished.

I debated calling Ivo but he wouldn't be on his lunch break for at least another hour, if he even took one at all. Normally our lunchtime calls would become quite heated and result in him coming home early. The thought made me smile.

I'd missed having a morning coffee with him. I hadn't had the chance to see him before he left for work and he came home the night before when I was asleep.

I had to run to answer the phone, forgetting that Ivo had told me about the slippy patch on the floor where the polish had landed and my heart was in my mouth as I skidded slightly. I had to quickly catch my breath before answering.

"Hello?"

"Tim, it's Isabel."

"Oh, Isabel, hi, how are you," I babbled.

"I'm fine, Tim. Where are you?"

"Em, at home, why?"

She took a deep breath.

"I need you to call a taxi and come to the hospital, Ivo was in a car accident last night."

I felt myself fall against the wall to support my weight.

"Ivo...what do you mean, is he okay," I stammered.

"He hasn't woken up yet, he's in the ICU" she said gently. "I'm sure he'll want you there when he does."

I was too shocked to detect the bitter tone.

"Okay, I'll..I'll be there soon."

"Bye Tim," she said sadly.

"Yeah, bye."

* * *

It only took me a few minutes to find shoes and money and all the other necessities but it felt like hours. My mind kept suggesting strange things that I definitely needed to bring but I settled on bringing Ivo a toothbrush and clean underwear.

I had bypassed the reception desk and followed the signs to the intensive care unit, hoping to see Isabel along the corridor so that I wouldn't have to ask where to go but she was nowhere to be found.

Eventually I had to give up and go to the desk on the ward to ask where he was, my heart was hammering the whole time.

"I'm looking for Ivo Steadman."

The woman finished writing in her ledger before looking up at me and giving a small smile.

"Are you family?"

"Yes I'm his boyfr-," I stopped, a little too late.

This was one thing Isabel hadn't considered. Or perhaps she had and took some enjoyment in it.

I would never be able to be Ivo's next of kin. I hadn't been the one contacted when Ivo had the accident, she had. Then she had waited until the next day to call me. I wouldn't be allowed to see him outside of visiting hours in a normal ward and never in the ICU unless I was a relative or if we were married. Which we never would be. To everyone else Ivo and I were nothing, we meant nothing to each other and nothing to anyone else.

In one of the rooms Ivo lay unconscious in a hospital bed and I wouldn't be allowed to see him.

I could only stare at the nurse behind the desk and she seemed to understand my predicament.

"Oh dear," she said softly with a sincerity that surprised me.

I looked at her and wondered how many people she had seen separated because of laws that governed who it was right and wrong for a human being to love. In her entire lifetime she must have grown up like everyone else to believe that being gay made you like vermin but instead she showed compassion and empathy. I admired that. It made me understand why Ivo refused to be affectionate towards me in public, why we can't be who we are because of the society we live in. We had no choice.

Looking at her ledger for a moment she then smiled up at me.

"Well Mr Steadman I'm sure your sister will be pleased you're here. Your brother is in the room straight in front of you to the left there."

She gave me a brief nod and then looked down the corridor to indicate where I was to go.

"Thank you," I whispered and she watched me carefully as I made my way to the room. I ran the last few steps and stopped in the doorway, looking at a very broken Ivo and feeling my knees go weak.

"Oh God."

Isabel looked up and surveyed my rumpled appearance.

"Tim, hi."

"I ignored her and went to the side of Ivo's bed, reaching out to touch him but unsure of where.

Resting my hand on his cheek I groaned with frustration. I didn't know how to be helpful in times like this.

"The doctor was just here," Isabel informed me. "He woke up earlier for a few minutes, after I called you. He's confused and stressed and they still have to run some tests so they've put him in an induced sleep to help him recover."

"Did he say anything," I asked her desperately. "Did he know what happened?"

Isabel fiddled with the tissue in her hands.

"He seemed to think you had been in the car with him. He was terrified something had happened to you and he wouldn't believe me that you were okay. I think he needs to see you."

Holding his hand I half hugged him, cuddling close and not caring what Isabel thought.

"I'll get you some coffee," she said before making a swift exit.

I took the opportunity to give Ivo a soft kiss on the lips and to lay on the bed beside him for a few minutes, knowing it wouldn't be long until the doctor came back or a nurse.

"I love you Ivo, so much. I don't know what I would do without you."


	49. Chapter 49

"Careful on the door."

"Yes, I know."

"Are you okay? Am I hurting you?"

"No Tim, I'm fine," I replied.

He closed the door behind us and set my bags on the floor. I headed straight for the living room and admired the sight of home. I am not a sentimental person but seeing my possessions was comforting having been away for what felt like a long time.

Hospitals, being so bleak and monotone, make you appreciate having your own space without constant interruption and beeping sounds.

I heard Tim throwing his shoes off and the soft pad of his feet along the hall.

"Do you want tea, or coffee? I could make you something to eat, if you're hungry," Tim said quickly. "We can order in, from the Chinese you like. Or if you just want to sleep that's okay, I don't mind."

He lifted the remote and handed it to me.

"You could watch some TV, I recorded that documentary you wanted to see. I'm not sure if it worked though, I tried to cut it off at the ads but I didn't really know what I was doing," he laughed.

"I kept all the papers from the last week, I didn't know if you would get a chance to read them in the hospital so I thought I should hold onto them for when you got home."

Sure enough there was a small pile on the coffee table as well as one of my coveted National Geographic magazines.

"Are you warm, or too cold? I'll go get you a blanket," he said before scurrying off to the bedroom in search of more layers.

I sat down on the sofa with a sigh and an involuntary wince from the sharp sting in my ribs.

I didn't mind some physical pain, I was used to scrapes and falls from my work but this was different. I was older now and suddenly bruises and cuts didn't represent adventure, simply carelessness and the inability to accept one's age.

I listened as Tim filled the kettle and opened various cupboards, no doubt finding them empty as I hadn't been here to do the shopping. He was trying so hard to take care of me though, that I found it hard to fault his efforts.

When I had woken up, he hadn't been there. It didn't surprise me that he wouldn't be allowed to see me outside of visiting hours. Once they figured out he was not my brother as Tim had told me the nurse pretended he was. The doctor had soon put a stop to it and I would always resent him for it.

What they hadn't anticipated, I'm sure, was the effect it would have on me.

It is vague to me but Isabel informed me of what had happened and how I had been convinced that Tim had been in the car, that they were hiding the fact that he was hurt, or worse, from me.

I had ranted and argued with very little result until I took to screaming and throwing things to get my way. They had relented then and allowed him an hour that evening to see me before limiting us to the set two hours each afternoon for the week I was there.

When Tim had appeared in the doorway I felt like I was back in that day when I had first seen him. His eyes were bloodshot and his cheeks hollow from the continuous process of not eating or sleeping. Yet he looked perfect.

He brought me things to read and even went to the University to collect some papers for me. Despite being in pain from a sprained wrist, broken ribs and bruising he would make me laugh and smile. He had held my hand and cuddled close to me and I admit I loved every moment of it.

I had been shocked when I heard him just outside the door discussing my condition with the doctor the afternoon I was leaving. He knew everything about what medicine I should be taking and what injuries I had sustained. His voice was authoritative and commanding as he spoke and it sent a small thrill through me.

He returned to the living room with a mug of coffee and a blanket in hand, setting the cup on the table and resting the blanket over my lap before holding out some post for me.

"I forgot to do the shopping but I'll go tomorrow," he apologised.

"Tim, sit down," I asked him and he slowly obeyed, his eyes on me the whole time surveying for damage.

"What is it, what's wrong, are you hurting?"

I reached out a hand to cup his cheek and gently pulled him towards me. He leaned in and we kissed softly. My heart gave a double beat when he let out a deep moan. He very carefully maneuvered himself so that he straddled my legs on the sofa, his arms around my neck as he deepened the kiss.

"Mmm, Ivo, I've missed this," he smiled and swept his tongue along my lower lip.

I pushed him from me a little so that I could look at him properly.

"We need to talk."

He blinked at me.

"Is something wrong," he asked, panic in his tone.

"No. No," I reassured him firmly and smoothed my hands along his arms.

"I need to tell you something."

He nodded slightly.

"Okay."

I took a strained breath owing to how constricted my chest was under bandages.

"If something were to happen to me," I started.

"Ivo, don't," Tim whined.

"No, Tim, listen to me. If something happens to me, I want you to know that everything is yours."

He stared down at me, looking confused.

"I wrote a will last month," I told him, worried about what his reaction would be.

"You're my next of kin."

We sat for the next few minutes, Tim having given no reaction other than to stare at me.

"I just want you to be happy, even if it's not with me," I said slowly.

"I'd never be happy without you," he stated simply, tears starting to fall down his cheeks. I reached up to wipe at them with my sleeve and he re-adjusted himself so that he could lay his head on my shoulder. I ruffled his hair and kissed his temple, completely contented.

His stomach growled then and I chuckled.

"Shall we order that Chinese then?"

"In a minute," he sighed. "This is nice."

"Mmm."


	50. Chapter 50

At first I'd thought that having to take time off work and stay home to 'recuperate' would be awful. The more time I spent with Tim, the more we would find to argue about. But the past two weeks had been oddly blissful with most of it spent lounging on the sofa reading all the journals and novels that I never usually had time to. Tim would periodically make me tea and would alternate between rubbing my feet and my temples.

When I first knew him I had never even thought that he would be this caring, to the point where it bordered on irritating. I knew it was difficult on him too, not least because of how much he craved sex. He would sit sideways in the armchair with his legs dangling from one arm of the seat and his head stretched back over the other making idle chat with me which would always turn into something flirtatious.

I could tell he was testing the water to gauge how long it would be before I had the strength to resume our lovemaking. I had always been under the impression that I was the one in the relationship who had a higher sex drive but evidently I was wrong about him again.

Each time the conversation steered into something sensual I would look at him with such longing, desperate to feel him again but I knew I would cause myself to be injured for longer if I didn't restrain myself now.

Having always been used to getting up early it was a surprisingly nice change to sleep late and get out of bed whenever I saw fit, usually to some form of brunch that Tim had made for me. I would sip at my coffee and read the paper from the day before with Tim's feet in my lap.

He was working on his new novel, the first was in the process of being brought into shops and I couldn't help but feel pride in his success. He spent a lot of time vacantly staring into space as I suppose most writers must do.

He sat across from me now, the usual faraway look on his face. He wore nothing but his boxers, clearly thinking I didn't realise his plans to seduce me. I would humour him for now, give him some form of victory.

"What are you reading," he asked.

"National Geographic," I replied with a smirk owing to the bright yellow cover and bold lettering.

"I know," he laughed, rolling his eyes. "I mean what are you reading about?"

"Inca tribes."

"Wow, fascinating," he said sarcastically.

"It is," I replied, going back to my reading.

I could sense him pouting at me.

"How are you feeling?"

"Mmm, fine."

He stretched out on the armchair and stuck his chest out a little.

It was when I looked up a minute or two later that I realised what he was doing.

"Mmmmm, Ivo," he moaned, one hand down his boxers and his eyes closed in blissful content.

I had to close my mouth and my throat felt dry.

"Hnngh, yes, yes," he panted, opening his eyes to give me a look that was sure to send us both straight to hell.

"Shit, Tim," I said heavily, watching him with rapt attention.

He whined at me, becoming more frantic.

"Ivo, please," he half begged. "Please, I can't take it anymore."

I pushed myself from the sofa and knelt in front of him, pulling his legs around so that they rested on my shoulders.

He gave a wide grin and rested back into the fabric, ready to be pleasured.

"Mmmm, like that, yeah."

His hips moved up and down as I moved my lips on him.

"Let's have sex," he giggled as he stroked my hair and I pulled off him.

"You know I want to but I can't, not yet."

"Come on Ivo, you won't have to do anything," he said excitedly. "Please."

I gave in and nodded, stopping him when he clambered on top of me on the floor.

"At least let me have the comfort of the bed," I laughed and Tim blushed.

"Sorry," he mumbled before giving me a hand up and leading us both down the hall.


	51. Chapter 51

Today had been more taxing than I had anticipated. I had become accustomed to the lifestyle of the young and carefree and now the world of work seemed like a horrible alternative. It wasn't that I wasn't physically up to it, I felt good, stronger even. Breaking back into habit however was proving difficult.

It was the first time in a long time that I had taken the bus anywhere, opting to have my own car repaired instead of replacing it. The repair bill had been astronomically high and Tim had hid in the kitchen while I shouted down the phone at the mechanic.

It had rained on my walk from the bus stop and when I finally reached the front door I wanted nothing more than to fall into bed. I set my keys on the hall table and placed my dripping coat over the corner of the radiator.

"I'm home," I called in the direction of the living room before toeing off my shoes and standing in the doorway to the sitting room, looking at Tim with confusion.

"Where did that come from?"

"I found it," he replied with a grin, a tiny kitten sitting in his lap. It nawed on his fingers and hopped about, excitable and springy.

"Where," I asked warily.

"I went to the shops and it was behind some boxes in the entryway. I heard it and looked through the boxes," he said. "The mother was dead," he said sadly as he lifted the kitten and held it close to cuddle it.

I didn't know whether to be more surprised by the kitten or by the idea that Tim had done the shopping.

"I don't know what to feed it," he said suddenly. "I think it must be hungry and I bought cat food but it's only a baby," he cooed at it and tickled it, a genuine smile on his face. "I gave it a bath in the sink," he laughed.

"Tim, you can't keep it, it might be diseased," I scolded and Tim glared at me, offended.

"It's not, I'll take it to the vet or something," he muttered.

"The mother might have belonged to someone, it could be someone else's kitten," I said gently.

"Stop spoiling things," he said darkly and set the kitten on the floor. It padded around, jumping at it's own shadow and making it's way towards me to investigate. I leaned down and reached my hand out towards it and it scurried away, hiding behind Tim's socked feet and rubbing up against him.

He reached down to stroke it and it licked at him before lying down between his legs and the sofa.

"Tim."

"What," he huffed.

"You can't keep it," I sighed, running my hand over my brow and trying to rid myself of exhaustion.

"Why not? I'll take care of it and it's not like you need to walk it."

"They make me sneeze."

"Hold your breathe then."

He scooped up the kitten and carried it with him to the kitchen. I followed and watched him taking out the carton of milk and pouring some into a bowl. He lifted a straw from the cutlery drawer that I didn't even know was in there and used it to hold small amounts of milk in order to feed it.

"I think it's a she," he said quietly. "I think I'll call her Shadow," he smiled. "She follows me about, it's cute."

The kitten held onto Tim's hand as he fed her with the straw and I had to admit to myself that the scene was endearing.

"Come and see," he whispered, as if not to disturb the animal and I obliged. I tickled it's stomach and it squirmed, batting at me with it's tiny paws.

"Isn't she sweet, he sighed.

"I suppose. I'm more of a dog person, I prefer their loyalty."

"Yes but it's a stupid loyalty, they love their master even when they shouldn't. Cats are loyal to those who treat them well. They are independent but choose to love."

I had no response to that.

"Mmm, where will it sleep?"

"I made it a bed," Tim said happily. "From one of the boxes in your office, the papers from it are on your desk by the way."

* * *

Tim had tucked the kitten into it's new bed and set the box in our bedroom until I had moved it to the kitchen.

"It's not sleeping in the bedroom."

"That's where people sleep Ivo."

"Yes Tim, people sleep there, not cats."

"You won't even notice her, she might get lonely or scared."

"No and that's final."

Checking the flat before heading to bed I opened the door of my office and regretted it. The window had been open and the stack of files and papers were strewn across the floor. The kitten had been here one day and was already causing mayhem. If I could cope with Tim I could cope with this.

I doubted that when it mewled in the middle of the night, somehow having hopped out of the box and made it into the bedroom.

The box was brought in.

I give up.


	52. Chapter 52

I had surprised myself by ending up with very little to do over the weekend. My life is usually organised and planned down to the last minute but increasingly I seemed to be following Tim's detrimental advice about 'going with the flow'. I'd already read the paper and had a cup of coffee and now I had resorted to cleaning the flat. Sorting through my books and files around the living room I had come across some women's magazines and wondered why we had them.

"Tim, are these yours," I asked, going to meet him in the kitchen and nearly stepping on the damned kitten which had become as infuriating as it was sweet.

"What," he looked round and his cheeks turned a little pink when he caught sight of them in my hand.

"Oh, em. Sort of."

"Why do you have them," I asked slowly, on the verge of laughing wondering if Tim was going to start following fashion advice and wearing makeup. Frankly it wouldn't surprise me. I surprised myself a little however with how the thought sparked something in my mind and elsewhere.

I flipped it open to the page that was dog eared and grinned.

"How to please your man," I read aloud and Tim avoided my gaze.

"I was just checking..."

"Mmm," I sniggered and then felt bad when he looked offended.

"I didn't know you were self-conscious about it," I said and he looked awkward.

"I'm not, it's just...I only ever did it as a teenager and it's not like they were very fussy about technique," he tailed off. "I didn't really know where else to look."

The kitten rubbed itself against my leg and whined.

"Do you like it," he asked suddenly.

"Like what?"

He gave me a look.

"Is it okay for you," he asked while half cringing and picking at his fingernails.

I couldn't think of what to say to him. When I stopped to think about it I realised just how needy Tim is when it comes to praise. Every move he makes he looks at me expectantly for a reaction or encouragement.

I went to him and pulled him towards me.

"Yes, you idiot," I scolded. "You are quite honestly the best sex I've ever had Tim Cornish."

He gave a half smile and kissed me gently on the mouth.

"Yeah? That doesn't really say much though does it," he teased and I swatted his nose with my hand making him blink in surprise.

"Cheeky, I'll have you know that I know a thing or two."

"Mmm. You must have had fun," he said quietly, wanting to make me feel guilty.

"Yeah, it was the best time of my life," I replied sarcastically which seemed to satisfy him.

"Well, I still learned a few tips from them," he pointed to the magazines.

"Did you really?"

"Mmm, yes. I think I understand the theory, I just need to put it into practice."

"I think I could find some free time to help you out," I smirked. I leaned in and kissed him languidly, my hand unzipping my flies.

"Ivo, the cat," he reminded me.

I glared at the fluffy little form that looked up at us as if it knew before I pulled Tim into the bathroom before closing the door.

He looked at me eagerly and knelt down in front of me, desperate to please. He pushed my jeans further down my hips and worked at my boxers, mouthing at me through the fabric and surprising me by massaging the backs of my thighs. It did feel pretty good. My mind was racing ahead to what else he might have picked up.

I could feel myself relax into it and just when he had set up a steady rhythm he would quickly change to something different, alternating between fast paced and tortuously slow, sparingly using his teeth to tease me. It was working.

He looked up at me with a devious smile and continued to do all manner of unspeakable things and I doubted he'd learned them from those magazines.

"Christ, Tim," I panted a few minutes later when I was spent and Tim looked thoroughly pleased with himself.

"Was it good?"

I couldn't catch my breath to answer properly, nodding at him and closing my eyes, still in the aftermath of pleasure.

I chuckled and pulled my jeans up before leaning down to kiss him passionately. He groaned, something he does that I love.

"What's for dessert," he asked lightly and I smiled.

"For such an angelic little face, you're shockingly dirty."

"In every saint, there's a sinner," he sang at me before clambering off the floor and pulling me up with him.

"Let's dance," he said excitedly, more animated and lively than I had seen him in quite some time.

He played one of his favourite records and trailed me between the furniture in an awkward and uncoordinated waltz picking up the kitten and swaying it with us.

"Wherever I go, my Shadow goes," he smiled and scratched her ears.

"If you make that cat sick, I'm not cleaning it," I warned.

He gave me a devilish grin and pulled a silly face at me.

"Whatever old man," he joked.

"Mmm."


	53. Chapter 53

It had gotten to that point in the evening when Tim had reached the stage of drunkenness that I can't help but find endearing and flattering; he watched me wide eyed, almost respectful. He was in awe as I spoke and every time I stopped talking he would pout at me. He laughed hysterically when I told him about my student claiming to have found a fossilised shoe and he whispered how sexy he thought I was across the table at me. I could hear the restaurant staff complaining to each other that we would be here all night but they would be proven wrong. I wanted nothing more than to get Tim home.

He told me animatedly about the new story he was working on, or at least he thought he was telling me. It was a bit of a jumbled slur across the table because of his excitement. He reached across and took my hand causing me to jump. There were a few side glances from other diners and I found myself not caring what they thought so I held his hand. Tim looked down at his hand as if he had no idea how it had gotten there. He seemed pleased all the same though.

There was still another half bottle of champagne and I poured another glass for Tim. He gave me a cheeky smirk from behind the glass as he drank and I knew what he was thinking, where this would inevitably lead to.

"Champagne too much for you," he teased, looking to my empty glass. I wondered if he knew I had only had one glass or whether he simply believe I was one behind him. I was surprised he hadn't been on the floor at this stage but he seemed to be carrying himself well. He hadn't been drinking in quite some time and wasn't as immune to it as he had been.

"Oh please, one of us has to be responsible," I admonished him and he seemed to shrink a little, staring into the bubbly liquid in contemplation before setting it back on the table.

"Yeah," he said softly, the mood having changed dramatically. "Can we go now?"

"Sure," I replied, attempting to understand him but I knew to give up before trying.

He watched me pay the bill before resigning himself to staring at the floor as the waiter brought my receipt along with some mints. I offered him one and he took it, smiling at me hazily.

"Thanks."

* * *

"Yes, fuck," I whimpered. "Tim."

I kissed the back of his neck and lent forward to kiss his cheek, pulling him tighter to me in my arms. He was warm and sticky beneath me, panting desperately and biting the bed sheet he clung to in his fists. He tried to re-position himself beneath me, bringing his knee up to rest on all fours and I had to change the angle I penetrated him from, it was definitely better for me but it must have made him uncomfortable. Then again he was so out of it I was surprised he was still conscious. The champagne had taken a little while to hit him and now I doubted he knew his own name.

"Oh god, Tim."

"Ivo, please."

Having sex with Tim was one of the few times in my life that it had ever been intimate or romantic. Everyone in the past was out of convenience, usually found in shady bars and nightclubs across town to try and protect my reputation. If I had ever know that I would ever have someone like him beneath me, everything would have paled in comparison.

He was quiet beneath me aside from the occasional whimper and I thrust harder to try and force sound from him. I regretted it when he let out a shriek of pain and I stilled immediately.

"Please," he cried shakily. "Please stop."

My insides twisted horribly when I heard that and I pulled off him.

"Tim," I said hesitantly and turned him around to face me. His eyes were glazed over and he could barely focus on me.

"I'm sorry," he said sadly. "I'm sorry, please don't," he slurred. "Hurts."

I was surprised, he usually liked it quite rough and I had been gentle with him up until now.

He tried to move on the bed and whimpered again and I held onto him to help him sit up, only now noticing the small amount of blood that was on the bedsheet.

The sight of it caused my stomach to roll.

"Tim," I shook him gently and he looked at me with a smile.

"Mmm."

"Tim, you're bleeding."

"Mmm," he gave a brief acknowledgment before closing his eyes.

* * *

I'd stayed up all night to watch him and make sure the bleeding had stopped and wasn't serious. My mind was racing through all sorts of thoughts of internal bleeding and blood clots but I was too afraid to take him to hospital. There was no other explanation for his injuries and Tim loathed hospitals.

I thought back to the first time I had heard that awful whimper for me to stop. I could rarely get it out of my mind.

I had known what I was doing when I bought the champagne, knowing how willing and compliant he is when drunk. When he is like that I can be rougher and he won't mind, I can profess my love for him and he won't remember. He loses his inhibitions and lets me ravish his body and his mind. I wondered how much of this he would remember.

He cuddled closer to me on the bed, oblivious to what had gone on and who was beside him. He was seeking comfort from the nearest warmth. I moved an eyelash from his cheek and kissed his forehead, going to the kitchen and making him breakfast for when he woke.


	54. Chapter 54

Reaching out gently he cupped my chin in his hand and tilted my head slightly to better see the damage done to my eye and my lip.

"Tell me who did this."

I shrugged my shoulders while avoiding his gaze which had grown more severe.

"Tim."

"I don't know."

"Yes you do, now tell me."

The last thing I wanted to do was to tell him and get beaten up more for being a snitch.

He exhaled and sat back onto his desk, looking at me sadly.

"You'll have to use soap to get that off," he gestured towards my forehead and what had been scrawled across it in black ink.

"Do you need the nurse," he asked tentatively, already knowing my answer.

"No, Sir."

"I'll get you some ice for your lip."

He left then and I looked at my reflection in the window pane, made visible against the dark sky outside. He came back sooner than I though with an icepack and a damp cloth; the staff room having been just down the hallway.

I scrubbed at the writing on my face and only made matters worse by smearing black ink all over me. He took the cloth from my hand and gently wiped at me until most of it had been removed.

"Thank you."

"Tim, I can't help you if you don't talk to me."

"I'm fine, really. I promise," I said with a charming smile and he seemed to falter.

"Why did they do this?"

I stared at him, confused. I had thought he was entirely aware of how things worked at the school. I'd thought he was a part of them.

"I wouldn't give him what he wanted," I replied darkly and Mr Walker looked unfazed.

"I see. What did he want," he asked calmly, casually regaining his stance against the desk.

I laughed.

"To sleep with me obviously."

"Mmm. I see. And of course, you didn't want to sleep with him," he affirmed and I shook my head.

"I don't do that anymore," I replied quietly and looked down at his shoes.

"Well," he said after a few minutes. "I can see that you are exhausted and it is past curfew so you had better head to bed. We can talk again tomorrow if you wish, Tim."

"I'm okay."

"Let me give you this," he said suddenly and reached around to search in his drawer.

"Robinson Crusoe," I read the cover and smiled at the coloured illustration.

"Thank you Sir."

He nodded at me and held the door for me as I left.

* * *

He left clutching the book to his chest and as soon as he had I sat down to have a cigarette. It would be a tiresome drive home and I needed to calm myself.

I had found him in a heap in the rain, blood seeping from his cut lip and the start of a black eye forming. The sick individual who had targeted him had written vile slander across his face and I was glad I had found him before he caught a cold, or worse, from the freezing temperatures.

It was a horrifying image to think of that sweet young boy being brutally beaten and worse to realise that he would no doubt have sat there, compliant, as they wrote on him. He didn't seem the type to fight back.

I rested my head in my hands and thought about what he had said.

'I don't do that anymore'.

The thought of what he had been doing before sent a chill through me.


End file.
